


Second Tuesday of the Month

by ThreeWhiskeyLunch



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Finally smut!, Fluff and Humor, Garrus Vakarian aka Garry Vakari, Geeking out over geek stuff, M/M, Oh god this has turned into a slow burn, Send help I'm writing a slow burn, Smut, So Much Flannel, The Flannel Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-01-05 09:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12187566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeWhiskeyLunch/pseuds/ThreeWhiskeyLunch
Summary: John Shepard is a science fiction writer who has just moved to the small town of Normandy. There he finds inspiration for the new series of books he has just begun to write. And meets a man that just might be his greatest fan. A man with a smoky voice and deep brown eyes.If only Shepard was as smooth as the characters he writes...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [potionsmaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/potionsmaster/gifts).



> “Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there.
> 
> It doesn't matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.” ~Ray Bradbury, _Fahrenheit 451_

He wouldn't have known someone is even there, he's so wrapped up in his writing. But Rex raises his head from where it's cradled on his forelegs and lets out a 'boff' of a half-bark. He gets up on his stumpy English Bulldog legs and wanders over to the window that looks down over the yard, the garage, and more yard beyond which slopes downhill to his neighbor's pasture. The dog barks, dragging Shepard's attention away from his laptop, from the words that fill the screen ('Archangel peered through the scope of his rifle and counted targets in range. "We've got incoming!"') and raises his head, his brain reluctant to be brought back into the real world.

The sound of tires on gravel can be heard through the open window and he feels a moment's irritation. He'd bought this place specifically for its remote location, needing the isolation and anonymity. A place away where he could write and live in peace. And now someone is in the driveway. Bothering his peace. He shudders with the memory of the last uninvited guest-a neighbor lady with a casserole of some sort in one hand and an invitation to the the local Corn on the Cob Roundup in the other. He had tried not to be rude. Tried being the operative word.

He chose to use a bedroom on the second story as an office rather than the room downstairs that was already outfitted for it because it's surrounded on the north and east sides by old growth trees, shaded on the east side from the sun, but still full of morning light. It’s like being in a treehouse, shimmers of shadowy leaves restless on the window screen and hardwood floor. He can measure time in a vague sort of way by the angle of the sun on the floor. It satisfies better than the exact clock in the corner of his computer screen, which he ignores as he writes.

The added bonus to where his office sits is the view of the driveway that curves up from the long lane from the south. He can snoop on whoever might be there (he knew that neighbor lady was coming from a quarter mile off, although he hadn’t known exactly who was behind the wheel at the time). In the three weeks since he's lived here, there have been exactly four vehicles, three work crew to turn on utilities or fix things that he couldn't fix himself and the aforementioned and quickly discharged neighbor. He knows there's nothing to be fixed, so he peers down with a suspicious eye at the white truck, noting the electric company's logo on the door as it slowly creeps towards his garage, his hand on Rex's head to silence the dog.

They both watch, slightly tense, until the truck stops, the engine deepens to a growling purr as it's put into 'park' and the driver gets out. Shepard notes the well-worn jeans, the white uniform Polo with the company logo on the pocket, the brown work boots, the clipboard-no, a touch-screen computer-in one hand, the dark, full head of hair. He's young, maybe Shepard's age or a bit older. And nicely built.

The man moves ('fluid, confident steps') around to the east side of the garage, out of his view, presumably to take the reading on the electric meter. He’s gone for only a moment and as he returns, Shepard has a better view of his face. Even from a distance he notices the strong jaw with maybe a cleft in his chin, seriously dark and heavy eyebrows, a sharp, straight nose. The man nearly pauses before he gets back into the cab of his truck, casting a glance over his shoulder at the house. But he’s into the truck and pulling away within moments, speeding down the gravel driveway leaving kicked-up dust in his wake.

Shepard steps away from the window, giving Rex a pat on the head. He resumes his seat at the desk, staring at the last words he’d written. His groove is gone, the wave of inspiration that had spurred him on for the last several hours dissipating into thin air. His stomach rumbles and he checks the time on his laptop. 11:33. Usually about the time he stops anyway.

Out of curiosity, he notes the date: June 9. Second Tuesday of the month.

~~*~~

Cool air fills the room, sending a light spray of rain inside through the screen onto the window sill. Shepard keeps his eye on the computer screen, trying not to lose his train of thought (“Lantar Sidonis, stop hiding behind your cowardice. Turn and face me!”) as he stands and shuffles sideways to the window, dropping the storm window swiftly. The rain pelts against the window, driven by gusts of wind. The oak outside his window waves its limbs, leaves just beginning to threaten to turn brown. He feels it in the air, the turning of the seasons. One moment the heat threatens to nearly break him. And the next, his skin is brushed with cool relief that makes his gooseflesh come alive.

He pauses in his return to his desk, eyes distracted by the white vehicle that comes up his lane. “Lantar Sidonis, stop hiding and turn and face me!” he says softly to himself, trying to keep himself on task while still tracking the movement of the truck. Rex raises his head at the engine noise, sees his master on point, and flops over onto his side with a groan. “Lantar Sidonis, turn and face me. Lantar! Turn your fucking chicken ass ugly face around and let me shoot it off. Lantar, you barefaced coward, get back here so I can take my rightful and archaically worded revenge out on you.” The truck stops at it’s usual spot in front of the garage and the dark-haired man gets out, pulling the hood of his raincoat up over his head and making a mad dash for the other side of the garage. “Lantar, you sexy bastard, I’m going to fuck you three ways from Sunday on the floor of this warehouse.” A moment passes and the man returns. “Lantar...I’m having very bad thoughts about you.” There is no pause today as there had been that first day, nor had there been on any subsequent monthly visits. Just get out, record the meter, then back in the truck and off-presumably-to the next stop. As the door closes, he can see the man brush the hood back off his head, rubbing his hand through his hair and he wonders at the texture of it, how it would feel between his fingers (thick, full, resiliently returning to its place). All for research, he tells himself. “Lantar, you bastard. Fuck me…”

The truck backs away, turns and is gone, breaking him from the spell of the last few moments. He blinks, coming back to himself as he takes a deep breath. He looks down at Rex who stares back up at him. “You are one lazyass dog.”

Rex sneezes at him.

He returns to his seat and notes the time and date. 11:47. Tuesday, September 8.


	2. Chapter 2

The town of Normandy (population: 5087) rests prettily in the embrace of a small valley. It comes complete with a white church spire, lazily twisting river, and town square upon which sits a majestic county courthouse made of stone and granite. It provides basic needs as far as groceries, a small hardware store (free peanuts on Wednesdays), several small gift shops and restaurants. There's even a second run movie theater that's been redecorated and updated. He goes once a week on Saturday mornings to pick up his mail from the post office, and to grab groceries and anything else he might need for the week. He also stops occasionally at the vet clinic to pick up Rex's dogfood.

The girl behind the counter, Jack he thinks her name is, has so many tattoos he can't even begin to count. And that's just in places he can see. What else might be lurking underneath the tightly worn scrubs is anyone's guess. "Doc Chakwas said to tell you Rex should have one more application of flea and tick prevention," the girl says. Her voice is hard and soft at the same time, some lurking anger riding just under the surface like a trout in rippling water; elusive and quicksilver. Initially he thought it had something to do with him, and while he couldn't have cared less if she hated him, he couldn't help but wonder why she did. Now he knows she directs that voice at everyone. Even her boss.

"Alright. Set me up."

She's lean and taut, and he watches the muscles in her arm flex as she gets the application ready. It's after he's paid, receipt and medication in his pocket and the bag of food over his shoulder that she says, "I looked you up. On the internet. You are famous. Kaidan said and I didn't believe him. Asshole. I owe him twenty fucking bucks now."

He blinks at her. _Who's Kaidan_ , he wonders.

~~*~~

The grocery store has a small deli off to one side where a girl with blue-dyed hair doles out fried chicken and ice cream cones. She has a sweet smile, a little innocent of the world. Her hair is quite often pulled back in a ponytail, short enough that the end sticks out in a straight line behind her, a perpetual breeze pushing at her.

When it was slow one week in the store, he had caught her reading a book on Greek archeology and had been surprised enough to comment about it. She had smiled, the little corners of her mouth tilting up softly, and explained in a soft, shy voice that she was going to community college and then she'd be off next year to the state university. She wanted to study the ancient civilizations of the Mediterranean. "Isn't it fascinating," she had said, shyness forgotten with her passion for the subject, "that's where so much of our European culture comes from? There's so much we can learn about ourselves by studying them." Her eyes had been wide and vibrant, excited with the prospect of a future spread out before her, a banquet for her choosing. Her freckled, round cheeks still hinted at childhood, and the way she spoke, almost breathless with happiness, nearly made him wince. For her sake, he had hoped she could keep that innocence as long as possible.

He had taken the Styrofoam container-fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, puffy dinner roll-and had thanked her, calling her by name.

Her eyes had widened further, "How did you-You know my name?"

He had pointed to the name tag on her chest. "Liara."

She had gasped and laughed and blushed, freckles standing out further. "Oh! Silly me!" He had waved, pushing his cart of groceries to the register.

Today her counter is surrounded by a pack of small children, all wearing matching red t-shirts with 'Joker's Fuel & Food' emblazoned on the back. He swerves his cart away, head down, and makes for the freezer section instead. High pitched children's chatter chases him from one end of the store to the other, broken occasionally by Liara's gentle voice as she hands out ice cream to each child in turn. Running through his list doesn't take much time and then he's at the checkout when she hears Liara's, "Anything for you, Kaidan?"

Curious, hearing the name twice in one day, he peeks a look from the corner of his eye as he swipes his card to pay. There are two adults herding the children, also in red shirts, with 'Coach' on the back as well as the logo. It's the thick, dark hair of the one man that arrests him, makes his heart skip several beats. He'd know that hair anywhere.

“Better just make it a mini, Liara. Going out to lunch in a bit.”

Shepard pulls himself out of the staring contest he's having with Kaidan's perfect ass as it hides underneath those perfect jeans and grabs his groceries. He flees the store, damning his shyness all the way to his car. If he were a better man, he'd at least have paused to see if Kaidan would turn so he could smile at him. Maybe wink. Was he a winker? He didn't really think he was a winker. So no winking. Just a smile, more like a sexy smirk. Yeah. Sexy smirk.

He attempts a sexy smirk in his rearview mirror, but it only manages to look like he’s in pain. It's all he can do to not bash his head in frustration on the steering wheel.

The mail he gathers from his post office box is by and large uninteresting: several large packages he recognizes as advance copies of books he'd agreed to review, and an assortment of envelopes that he quickly rifles through as he sits in the car. There are several large manilla envelopes which in and of itself isn't unusual. But it's the one from his mother's lawyer that stays his hand.

So it's done.

The _Horizon_ is gone.

One corner of the envelope is crumpled from its journey from the east coast, marring the pristine flat expanse of white. He straightens it with his thumb and forefinger, but otherwise is reluctant to open it as memories flood in. Happier times. When both his parents lived and his greatest concerns were comic books and baseball cards. He sighs, then laughs silently as his stomach rumbles. The mundane problem of his belly is a welcome distraction.

From his parked car, he searches the street. He’s never eaten in town, but he’s in a melancholy mood now, unwilling to return home to solitude and the silent stare of his computer. Half a block down he sees the sign for Zaeed’s Bar and Grill that he’d noticed on earlier trips. It’s cold enough that his groceries won’t suffer so he grabs the thick white envelope from his mother’s lawyer and locks up the car. A light drizzle of cool fall rain has started, darkening the noon sky and making it feel later in the day than it actually is. A beer and a burger seem fitting for his mood.

It’s dark in the bar, the lingering tang of alcohol and smoke in the air, but it’s clean and tidy: tables and booths line the front of the room with a pool table at the far back. The left wall holds a long bar of antique carved maple that makes him think this was one of the first things built when the town was founded, with the rest growing up around it. Not an unlikely assumption when he gets right down to it. There’s a football game on the television, the volume set on low. A few patrons scatter the place; a couple in a corner booth with their heads together, a man sitting at the far end of the bar scowling at his drink, and a younger man full of chesty muscles and a short mohawk who’s breaking the balls on the pool table. Shepard picks a stool at the bar, finds a short laminated menu tucked in with the salt and pepper and katsup.

“Best goddamn burgers in town if that’s what you’re hungry for.”

“It is,” he says and glances up to catch the eye of the bartender who stands on the other side of the bar. It’s an unusual face, a jagged scar running the length of one cheek, up around a clouded blind eye. But the other eye-dark green and clear-regards him somewhat suspiciously, stranger that he is. It’s a face lined by time with a voice to match, rough and well-aged (‘grizzled’, but no, that’s overused…’seasoned’ is better).

A cocktail napkin is placed before him. “Something to drink?”

He scans the bar, noting the quality whiskeys in abundance, to find the tap handles. He picks the stout on tap and gets a nod of approval, returns his attention to the menu. The burgers appear to be named for locals, inside jokes to those in the know: Jack’s Jack Attack, Edi’s Straight Man, Joker's Dirty Little Secret, and Ash’s Black Eye. He chooses Vido’s Head on a Platter-a double burger with grilled onions and jalapenos, pepper jack cheese, served two-faced. He wonders what that is, but waits to find out. He orders fries (hand cut, the menu says) and the burger medium-rare, which gets another nod of approval from the bartender who stalks off towards the back.

“James! Back to work. Got an order.”

The burly man at the pool table carefully puts the cue back on the rack. “Alright, pop.”

The man behind the bar shakes his head, disapproving and fond all at once. "Boy's brains got scrambled playing football," he says. "Came home because he couldn't play anymore. Makes a goddamn mean burger though."

Shepard nods, not sure what to say to that. Sorry? Congratulations? Kids these days getting their heads cracked open? But the bartender is away before he can come up with a response, summoned by the man at the other end of the bar. "Need another, Presley?"

Shepard lets his attention wander to the football game on the tv for a moment, uninterested but lured in by the excited roar of the crowd. He sips at the beer, mellow and dark and nearly a meal in and of itself. He looks down at the envelope, stark white against the dark wood of the bar top. A finger frees the glued flap, the thick pile of papers inside a heavy weight that slides out into his hand. A cover letter from the lawyer. Copy of the deed of sale. Another letter from an accountant stating the amount of his share. He sighs, struck not for the first time at the detritus that is left over after a person no longer has a hold on it because no one has a hold on anything, ultimately. _Can't take it with you._

He's marginally aware of a group that enters behind him, a cool rush of air that carries the scent of rain quickly doused with a loud bang as the wind shuts it with its own hand. He studies the documents, befuddled by legalese. But it doesn't really matter. It all boils down to this simple fact: the _Horizon_ is gone.

Yar, his mother would say, her voice wistful and he always knew she wasn't just talking about the boat. She was remembering his father and all the days they spent sailing her. Days long past, only fleeting memories for Shepard, but still so primary to his mother's essence. And now she's gone and _Horizon_ is gone and all that's left is himself and his stepfather, David, to carry on. All at once, time wants to slip through his fingers and he feels the gossamer frailty of life; how tenuous the hold any of them have on it, and how tenaciously they cling to it with bleeding fingers.

A large platter is placed in front of him by the burly man with a shy grin. It's mounded with fries, still nearly sizzling from the hot oil, and the burger. Two-faced, he discovers, is a double burger served open faced. It's topped with the peppers and onions, cooked down until the onions are golden brown and the peppers shimmer, slightly charred. The aroma hits him in a wave and his stomach growls. "Get ya anything else? Another beer?"

"Yeah, sure," he tips the remains of the glass down in a big swallow, exchanging the empty for a full. The burly man, James, knocks twice on the bar top with his knuckles and heads back to the kitchen.

The sandwich is large in his fist and after the first bite he doesn't want to put it down. It is the best burger he's ever had in his life, juicy and meaty, tangy-sweet with onions and spicy with the peppers. Everything else falls away: just him and that burger and those crispy fries. So it comes as a surprise when a warm body bumps into him with a muttered curse and a hand on his arm, grasping tighter to keep the other person from falling fully onto the bar.

"Oh, shit. Sorry. I'm so sorry! Jack! Cut it out. That's not helping-"

It's surreal, Shepard thinks. Engrossed one moment in his meal. And the next, engrossed in brown eyes. Waking from one dream to be immediately swept into another, swallowing hard around the food in his mouth as he recognizes the man who arrives once a month at his house to read his electric meter, whose back he basically fled from only half an hour ago. The burger and bun sits like a lump in his throat and he wants desperately to take a drink of beer to wash it down, but his arm is held fast by the dark-haired man and his fists are locked stupidly around the remains of the messy sandwich. His heart hammers in his chest, thumping, trapped beneath his ribs. He swallows, manages to take a breath to say something, anything, he doesn't even know what beyond 'oh god, I want to kiss you so hard right now' and that's not the least bit appropriate. But before he can say anything the other man's neck and ears slowly turn bright red and his eyes widen in surprise.

"Oh! It's you! Oh god. I'm so sorry-" The man is tugged up by tattooed hands that Shepard recognizes as the girl from the vet clinic, pulling on the sleeve of his blue and green plaid flannel shirt. "Jack! Shit-stop it-"

Jack's wicked giggle erupts behind Shepard. "Fine, asshole," and then he's shoved unceremoniously down onto the barstool next to Shepard. Jack inserts her shaved head between them, nodding at each of them in turn. "Kaidan Alenko. John Shepard. John Shepard. Kaidan Alenko." She looks at Shepard who gawks back in surprise. "Kaidan is your biggest fanboy. He's read all your shit." She waves a hand as if she couldn't be bothered with such nonsense. She looks at Kaidan. "Tell him how much you like his shit."

The red blush deepens on Kaidan's face and his mouth hangs open, gaping like a goldfish out of water. "I-"

She looks back at Shepard. "He really likes your shit." She winks and yells at the bartender, "Hey, old man! You gonna get us something to drink or what?"

"Hold onto your fucking knickers," the bartender barks back from the other end of the bar, muttering under his breath. The bar has filled up a bit more and a young, red-haired waitress carries a tray of food to the group that had come in earlier.

An awkward silence sits between them until Shepard puts down his burger and grabs napkins to clean his hands of the greasy mess.

“What’s your favorite book?” he asks at the same time Kaidan says, “I’m really sorry. We’ll leave you alone.”

Jack giggles again, a sound that has more wickedness in it than he’s pretty sure he’s ever heard from anyone before. Kaidan blinks, halfway standing from the barstool. “Wh-what?”

“Your favorite? What’s your favorite book?” It's his standard go-to question, an attempt to quiet a fan’s nerves. He's usually interested in a general sort of way since he only really gets to see sales figures from his publisher and the occasional guilty peek at star ratings on Amazon. It's nice to get more personal feedback. But in this case, he finds he wants to know more about Kaidan-this man who looks tough and rugged on the outside, yet can manage to blush with the best of the schoolgirls.

Jack’s hand lands on Kaidan’s shoulder and pushes him back down on the seat. The bartender has brought over a bottle of Canadian brew and a shot of whiskey that looks more like a triple than anything. Jack reaches for the whiskey with a “Thanks, Massani.” The bartender grunts before throwing a pile of napkins down for Shepard and moving back to the taps.

“Oh! Uh. Well, I mean. I like them all. So far.” The blush has deepened to the point of his face now resembling a beet and Shepard finds he’s having a hard time not grinning about it. Fuck, he’s cute. “They’re all good!”

Jack snorts and shakes her head. “Shit, Kaid. You’re usually more eloquent.” She turns to look at Shepard. “He’s usually more eloquent. Can’t shut him up somet-”

He interrupts knowing that he's being rude, but doesn't want Kaidan to be further put on the spot. “Don’t mean to grill you. Kaidan.” He allows himself the name, feels it on his tongue and the back of his throat, wonders briefly what it would feel like to say it against the other man’s lips before he sweeps the thought aside.

“No! Hey, it’s okay! I just--I mean, the _Tuchunka_ series was great. I think Wrex was about my favorite character. But then the world building you did for _The Rachni Wars_ and _The Alien Queen_? And where did you come up with biotic abilities? And the mass effect relays! What a great way to be able to travel across the galaxy!” Kaidan babbles along, normally something that might make him back away slowly, but Shepard finds himself grinning and nodding and reveling in the praise. The more Kaidan talks, the more relaxed he becomes, his hands waving in the air when he’s especially excited. Somewhere in the midst of his flood of words, Shepard realizes he’s not even really listening, so focused on the man and his husky voice and sparkling eyes.

An embarrassed pause breaks into his reverie, Kaidan’s eyebrows raised as he looks at him, as if expecting...something. Like an answer to a question. He sifts back through his memories, Kaidan’s words filtering in slowly, like cold molasses: _krogan; red sand; Omega; working on anything new?_

Ah.

“Not that--you don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t have asked. You probably like to keep this stuff secret, right?”

“No, I...it’s okay. I’m actually starting a new series called _Archangel_. It’s about a turian on Omega. Righting wrongs. Betrayal. Revenge. You know; the usual.”

“Oh, cool! I--that sounds cool! I can’t wait to read it!”

“Well...you might be waiting a while. Still up here mostly,” Shepard taps his forehead. “My editor hates me right now.”

“Hey, I’m sure you’ll get it written. Uh, I should probably let you go,” he looks over his shoulder at a group that’s collected at a large table, and where Jack has migrated to at some point. “Supposed to meet some friends for lunch.

“Well, hey, it was really nice to meet you,” Shepard wipes his hands on several napkins before he extends it out to Kaidan.

The other man stares at it like it’s a foreign object for a moment, but then realization dawns as he realizes Shepard is offering a handshake. “I...Oh! Yeah! You too!” His face turns crimson slowly, but his hand is warm and firm in Shepard’s.

He resists the urge to hold on for longer. “Maybe I’ll see you around? Besides the regular meter reading that is.” He feels the color drain from his face, hearing the words spill from his mouth and knowing he can’t take them back. Now Kaidan knows he’s been watching. Great, Shepard. Just great.

“Ah! Heh! Yeah. That’s me! Your friendly neighborhood meter reader!” He shuffles backward. “Really nice to meet you. I guess that’s been said already? Well, you said that. And I uh...I--er…” He points with his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of his friends. “I’m gonna just go before I completely insert my foot into my mouth.”

And with that he’s gone, leaving a bewildered Shepard to stare after his retreating back. He watches him slump down in a chair next to Jack, shaking his head at something she asks him. She looks over at Shepard and waves, a grin splitting her face. Shepard half-heartedly waves his fingers at her before returning to the destroyed burger on his plate. He sighs and does not slam his forehead on the bartop. Why did he have to say that thing about meter reading? Now Kaidan thinks he’s a complete creep, spying on him from behind darkened windows. He shudders at the mental image, seeing as how _that’s exactly what he’s been doing_. Kaidan couldn’t wait to get away from him after that little revelation, and frankly he doesn’t blame him. He gathers up the envelope, throws cash down on the bar and leaves.

He doesn’t write for the rest of the weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg you guys, thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a dog meet dog world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the next chapter were supposed to be up before Halloween. Alas.
> 
> Happy belated Halloween. *throws confetti*

The next month on the appropriate Tuesday, he resists the urge to look out the window for as long as he can. But Kaidan’s off his schedule, not having shown up after several hours. It shouldn’t bother him, but it does. He stares at the words on the laptop (‘Archangel is used to waiting. If it means taking down Tarak once and for all, he’ll gladly wait for days.’) He fidgets with the items on his desk: tapping all his FunkoPop bobbleheads in a row to make them shake; lining up his notebooks in straight formation; testing all the pens to make sure they work (he throws out two and considers it a job well done); he rediscovers a tower defence game on his phone that he thought he’d deleted (because he wasted too much time playing it) and wastes too much time playing it before deleting it in disgust at himself. Finally, he admits defeat and retreats from the hell hole of his office. He lets Rex out to wander the yard, makes himself a sandwich and calls his best friend.

Garry doesn’t even bother with ‘Hello’ when he answers. “Is this an ‘I’m suffering from writer’s block and need a distraction’ phone call? Or is this a ‘I was a stupid ass and moved a thousand miles away from my best friend and I miss him more than fresh New York bagels’ phone call?”

Shepard laughs. “Somewhere in the middle, I guess.” He opens the door for Rex, who flops down on the rug in the kitchen.

“Ah, well that’s intriguing. Details, Shepard. And remember, I’m a detective. I know bullshit when I hear it.”

“You’re an ass. But…” he takes a deep breath, “there’s this guy…”

“Oh?” Shepard can practically hear him lean forward in his seat. He can picture the tall, thin man sitting at his desk, the mayhem of the police station whirling around him, half hidden behind piles of paperwork, a half-eaten pizza slice at his elbow. “What’s his name?”

“No, see, I know your game. I tell you that and the next thing I know you’ve got his record, his financials, the names of all his stuffed animals when he was a kid. Nope. Not this time, my nosey friend.”

“Shepard, you repeatedly spoil all the fun out of being a police officer.”

“Hey, I named the protagonist in my new series after you. I can just as easily change it to Tali—”

“No need to be hasty, now.”

“—make her a quarian with a shotgun—”

“Alright, alright! Fine! Please don’t tell my wife this is an option. I’ll never hear the end of it. Especially the bit about the shotgun.”

Shepard laughs. “Deal. I’ll just call him ‘K’ for now—”

“As in Kevin? Kenneth? Kurt? Kyle? No. Wait. Please don’t tell me it’s Kyle. If you ever date a Kyle, I’m coming out there and bringing you home in a straight jacket.”

“ _Garry—_ ”

“Just. Please. Don’t date Kyle.”

“It’s not Kyle.”

The other man loudly sighs. “That’s a load off my mind. Alright, proceed.”

Shepard rolls his eyes. “You’ve kind of stolen my thunder.” Which is true. Garry’s always had the ability to shake Shepard lose from his morose obsessing. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, but then it all just seems slightly ridiculous. He runs his hand down the front of his soft, flannel shirt. “You know what, just...forget it. I don’t even know if he’s into guys.”

“Well, that seems like a good first step. If you needed a plan, that is.”

“I dunno. I think I messed the whole thing up anyway. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m stalking him or something.”

“And now you’re just making excuses. Don’t complain to me when you’re old and still single.”

“Fine. I’ll complain to Tali instead.”

“Great. Then you and I can talk about this fabulous new character you’ve created. What was his name again?”

“Garrus Vakarian.”

“Sounds like a Nordic ice god.”

“Something like that.” He hears the rumble of a truck coming up the long lane and wanders to the window. The truck stops at the garage, the driver cast in shadow inside. The profile doesn’t seem quite right, which could just be a trick of the light. He takes a deep breath to try and slow his heart (which shouldn’t be beating so fast, why is it beating so fast?). He opens the front door, fully intended to go out and say something (oh gods, what? _Hey, Kaidan! Are you into guys?_ No! Oh god, no. Whatever you do, don’t say that!). “Hey, Garry, I gotta go.”

“That’s badass archangel Garrus Vakarian to you.”

“Good talk, Garrus.”

The porch floor creaks under his foot. He hears Rex snuffle at the fresh air before he wanders out behind him. They’re halfway outside when the truck door opens and a woman with long, dark brown hair steps out. Shepard freezes and watches her quickly walk around to the far side of the garage. “Rex, in.” He retreats back inside when she’s out of view, his heart sinking. _Damnit_. Where was Kaidan?

Shepard releases a breath of pent-up energy and collapses against the closed door.

~~*~~

Rex is due for his shots, so they take a trip into town on a Thursday afternoon, Rex riding in the back seat, looking out the window like the king of dogs he is. Shepard likes Dr. Chakwas’ calm demeanor and quietness. She’s all business and yet never brisque.

“I need somewhere to kennel Rex while I’m on a book tour next month,” Shepard says when she’s finished up with the shots. “Do you do that?”

Chakwas pulls up Rex’s top lip to look at his teeth. “We do. But why not ask Jack?”

“Jack? Your assistant?”

“Indeed. She recently lost one of her dogs. She might agree to board him. She does occasionally for a few people. Does Rex get on with other dogs?” She scratches the dog behind his ears and straightens up.

He shrugs. “Well enough. Unless they’re little hyper dogs. I used to leave him with my...my mother. She has a, had a lab.” He feels a guilty lurch in his stomach and resolves to call David. He hasn’t spoken to his stepfather in several weeks.

“Well, Jack just has a golden left, and she’s fairly old. Lays around mostly, from what Jack tells me.” She smiles. “Rex looks good. Maybe a few pounds over, but that’s fairly common with English bulldogs. If Jack isn’t able to, set it up in the schedule for when you’ll be gone. If that’s what you’d like to do.”

Jack’s eyes light up at the prospect, especially when he names a payment. “Fuck, yeah. I’d have done it for half that.” She quickly points at him, “But I’ll take all of it. No take backsies.”

He laughs and throws up his hands. “Done.”

“Bring him over to my place, just to be sure he gets on with Spot. She’s usually pretty chill about other dogs, but you never know.” They set up a time and he copies down her address.

He calls his step-father on his way home. They talk for three hours. He fights down the feeling of homesickness that lingers afterward.

~~~~~

Jack lives in a small, tidy trailer home in one of the two trailer parks in town. The other park, she tells him, is a ‘real shithole.’ He looks around at the homes around hers and notes that if they’re not exactly new, the owners seem to at least take some pride in ownership. A line of potted mums trails up to one door. A garden gnome sits under a white and red-spotted ceramic mushroom in another. Jack’s door sports a Halloween skeleton, the rail leading up to the deck decorated with spider webbing. “Hey,” she answers his knock and steps back. “Come on in.” She bends down and scratches Rex’s head. A golden retriever attempts to shove between Jack’s legs, nearly knocking her over in the process. “Damnit, Spot!” Jack steps back to let the two dogs sniff each other over, which they do, butts and tails wagging. “Sorry, she gets carried away sometimes.”

The dogs dance around each other, performing the necessary rituals of butt sniffing before Spot gives Rex a giant slurp up his face. Shepard laughs. “Well, I guess that settles that.” The dogs sit down next to each other and look up at the humans as if wondering what the fuss is all about.

“I didn’t think it would be a problem, but it’s good just to be sure.”

“Yeah,” Shepard leans down to pet Spot’s soft fur and gets a hearty tail wag in reward. He looks around the house, noting the overabundance of black and orange holiday decorations. “You...must like Halloween?”

“Yeah. Only fucking holiday that matters, far as I’m concerned. Hey! I’m having a Halloween party next Friday. You should come.” Jack grabs a photocopied invitation from a small stack on the table and forces it on him.

He takes it out of politeness. “I dunno…”

“You can bring a date. Or a friend. Or whatever.”

“I don’t really…” he trails off, noting the interest in her eyes. He balks, hoping she’s not fishing for personal information about him for herself. While he likes her well enough, for all the harsh edges and tattoos, he’s never been interested in women. He gears up for the recitation of his sexual preference, the gentle deflection of unwanted attention, but before the words are in the back of his throat she says, “Kaidan will be there,” with a faux-innocent smile and did she just attempt to blink innocently as well?

“I—”

“He’s my best friend, in case you’re wondering. He’s not really my type.” She gives him a hard stare. “Neither are you. Not that you aren’t cute. I just tend to go for someone with a little more muscle. And tats. And well—” she waves her hand, as if that encompasses everything else on her checklist for potential romantic interests, none of which are apparently available from the man in front of her. So much for that speech.

He blinks at her rapid-fire disclosure of personal information. “Uh…”

“Anyway. You should come. I make a stellar nacho dip.”

He refrains from blurting out the question of where Kaidan had been Tuesday when some woman had shown up in his place in his stead. It’s none of his business, and points too easily at the near-creepiness he feels when thinking about what has become an obsession. He sighs internally. “I’ll think about it.”

Which isn’t a lie. He thinks about it for a solid week, puzzling over costumes and squelching down his social anxiety. He can do this. People do this all the time. He’s people, right?

...right?...

~~~~~

He talks himself in and out of the party twelve or a hundred times. He lays out the cloak for his costume on the bed and then promptly hangs it back up in the closet. Then five seconds later takes it back out, pulls it off the hanger. His phone chirps a message at him. Then again and again and he sighs and picks up the phone, figuring it’s Garry with pictures of whatever cute couples costume he and Tali are dressed up as (last year it had been Tali as Marty McFly and Garry as Doc Brown).

It’s not Garry.

_Jack: Get_

_Jack: Over_

_Jack: Here_

_Jack: You_

_Jack: Big_

_Jack: Chicken_

Shepard blinks at the messages, regretting the moment he’d exchanged numbers with his future dog sitter.

The phone vibrates in his hand as another message appears.

_Jack: Kaidan’s here_

_Jack: I told him you’re coming_

_Jack: Don’t make me a liar_

_Jack: If you make me a liar, I’ll dress your damned dog up in a bright pink tutu and walk him around town_

Shepard huffs a laugh.

_Shepard: Blackmailing me over my dog is low_

_Jack: Well get your ass over here and I won’t have to do it_

Shepard sighs heavily, staring at the words on his phone.

_Shepard: Fine. On my way. But I’m telling Rex what you said._

_Jack: He can take it. He’s a big boy._

Shepard shakes his head and throws the phone on the bed where it lands next to the dark green cloak. “Well, Aragorn. No time like the present.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are so, so awkward...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a Halloween party in December. Woot.
> 
> [Jack's party music mix](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLjoUzCkW39Gpx1jRLYp8prC0GZaZQN-Di)

Jack’s gone all out on the Halloween decorations. Strings of orange lights guide the way up to her house, along with several carved pumpkins in varying degrees of gruesome detail. A graveyard of plastic gravestones and skeleton parts decorates her small yard where a few people are scattered, mingling and smoking in assorted costumes. Music pulses from inside, the bass rattling the trailer so hard Shepard wouldn’t have been surprised to see it move off its foundation and vibrate down the street.

He balks, resists the nervous urge to adjust his wig, seeing only the shadowy, costumed figures and recognizing no one. What had he been thinking, agreeing to come to this? The urge to flee pulls at him from behind and he’s nearly convinced himself to just turn around before anyone can spot him, when he hears Jack’s distinctive cackling laugh as she comes out of her house. In the shadows cast by the dim lights, it’s hard to tell exactly what her costume is, but she appears to have a giant beehive on her head and wears a poodle skirt, complete with pink poodle.

She spots him immediately. Of course she would. “Shepard! Shepard’s here!” Her voice is incredibly loud and she sounds well on her way to alcoholic oblivion. “Hey, Shepard! What’re you, an elf ranger or something? Get your ass over here and take a shot with me!” She stumbles a few steps over to him and grabs his arm. “C’mon, asshole. Kaidan’s here somewhere.” She leans closer and stage-whispers, her breath thick with sickenly sweet alcohol. “He’s trying to act cool, but he’s totally been watching the door for you.”

John’s glad for the darkness that covers his blush. But her words give him hope that maybe Kaidan hadn’t been as creeped out by Shepard as he’d feared. He follows her up the steps and into her house, where the music assaults his ears. She takes his hand and pulls him along behind her while she yells for Kaidan.

“He’s outside!” Someone yells back, which causes her to change course into the kitchen.

“Shot first! Then we’ll go find Kaidan!” She yells in his ear. She pours a couple shots of tequila and clinks her glass against his. “Prost! A toast to ghosts!”

He’s of a mind to protest. He’s not really one for shots of any sort, but her mood is infectious and the music drives through his body, makes him feel like making bad decisions for a change. And honestly, a bit of liquid courage would be a welcome thing right about now. He raises the glass and downs it quickly, trying his best not to cough as it burns his throat. Jack shoves a cold bottle of beer in his hand before she takes the other and pulls him along behind again, out the door and into the yard.

“KAIDAN!” Jack leans over the balcony rail, her feet coming up off the floor as she yells. Her feet kick out from underneath the skirt and John stifles back a chortle at the combat boots that she wears.

“What?!” A voice answers back from somewhere in the dark yard.

“C’mon.” They weave between people and gravestones, Jack nearly tripping over a leg bone in the process. “Damnit. Stupid bone.” She pauses and looks around. “Shit. Where’d he go? MARCO!”

“Polo!” The man answers back from somewhere off to their right.

John’s jerked forward toward a group of people standing in a huddle. Cigarette smoke drifts in the air, twisting around a tall woman in rabbit ears with a puffy tail and otherwise normal street clothes, another woman dressed as a warrior, a couple wearing Star Trek uniforms, and a man in a muscle costume wielding Mjolnir. And Kaidan, wearing what appears to be blue coveralls.

“Kaidan! Look! I found Shepard!” Jack’s words slur as she tumbles into the middle of the group. She props herself on Kaidan’s chest, breathing deeply. “I’m gonna go get more booze. Does everyone have booze? Y’all better have booze! I want drunk guests sleeping on my yard tonight!” She turns and huffs at Shepard, “Hhhokay. I see you later, big chicken.”

She stumbles away, leaving a somewhat awkward silence behind her as everyone looks at Shepard and Shepard tries to not squeeze the beer right out of the bottle in his hand.

Kaidan crushes his cigarette under his boot. “Sorry about that. Jack can get a little, uh...overwhelming when she’s drunk.”

The bearded man wearing the Star Trek uniform snorts. “That’s putting it mildly.”

Kaidan grins, but waves him off. “I like the costume, Shepard. Or should I say...Aragorn?”

“Ah, I made it too easy with the wig.”

Kaidan laughs, a sound that makes Shepard want to roll his eyes back in his head from the shivers that run down his spine. The other man indicates the pin that holds his cloak shut. “The leaf pin is a big clue. I looks like the real thing.”

He looks down at it, fingering the smooth resin surface. “Yeah. Picked it up at a con a couple years ago.”

“Oh, cool! I haven’t been to a con in ages.”

Shepard nods, probably too much, feeling the conversation drift into the uncomfortable realm of not knowing what to talk about. He’s so bad at small talk.

“Hey, Shepard, have you met Joker and Edi?” Kaidan breaks the awkward silence that seems to have gone on for hours, but probably was only seconds. “They run the gas station out on the highway.”

“Yeah, I mean. No,” he takes Joker’s outstretched hand in a handshake. “But I’ve got gas from you, I guess?” He indicates their uniforms. “Will Ryker and Deanna Troi, I presume?”

“You see, Jeff,” Edi prods him in the ribs, “this is clearly a good couple’s costume.” She adjusts the long haired, curly wig on her head. “This complete stranger was able to identify us with very little encouragement.”

“Well, it was really the wig. And the beard,” he nods at Joker.

“Which is totally awesome and _real_ , by the way. Nice t’meet ya, Shepard. Heard we had a celebrity living around.”

“Well, I’m not really—”

“This is Ashley,” Kaidan continues with the introductions, pointing to the warrior. “She works at the electric company with me.”

“Hi!” She shakes his hand with one firm shake up and down, nearly breaking his finger bones while she’s at it. “Was at your house a couple weeks ago when Kaidan was on vacation. Nice place.”

“Thanks.” _Vacation_? Well that explains it. “Yeah, I like it.”

“Some people say that place is haunted,” the man dressed as Thor says. “Seen any ghosts yet?”

“I, uh...no?”

“Pity,” he says with a sigh.

Kaidan laughs and slaps the man on the shoulder. “Jacob here is our resident ghost whisperer—”

“Hey, now—” Jacob laughs.

“—and one of the best plumbers in the county. So poltergeists or backed up sewer, either problem, really.”

Shepard shakes Jacob’s outstretched hand. “Have they ever been one and the same? Ghost stuck in the water main?”

“Not yet,” Jacob grins. “But here’s hoping.” The man nods in the direction of the driveway. “Looks like Sam finally got here, Gianna.”

The bunny-woman looks over her shoulder. “Oh. Yeah, thanks.” She crushes her own cigarette out under her heel, waving at a woman with dark, shoulder length hair who makes her way over to the group. “Hello, darling! You’re just in time to meet our famous author.”

“I’m not—” Shepard attempts to curtail the label, but the other woman holds out a hand.

“You must be John Shepard. I’d heard you’d moved to town. Kaidan’s been talking you up! If you happen to notice an uptick in sales in the midwest, it’s probably all on him.” She reaches out a hand, “I’m Samantha Traynor.”

He shakes her hand, and then the woman next to hers. “Gianna Parasini.” Gianna looks down fondly at the other woman. “Darling, I was promised dancing.”

“Far be it for me to deny you dancing,” Samantha says. “Come on.” They walk off arm-in-arm, heads together. They look comfortable and close in a way that makes Shepard feel envious. It’s been a very long time since he’s had that sort of closeness with another person.

“And there goes half the IQ of the entire town,” says Joker, and the rest of the small group nod their heads.

“Oh, yeah?” Shepard watches them dance up the steps and into the house, Samantha’s arms already up in the air. Gianna tosses her head back in a laugh.

“Yeah,” Kaidan says. “Sam’s an electrical engineer. Gianna does some sort of security thing--not really sure what--works out of their house. She’s gone a lot, mostly to either coast. Sometimes overseas.” He shrugs. “Anyway. Yeah. They’re nice. And could probably take over the world quite easily, if they ever put their minds to it.”

Shepard nods, feeling self-conscious and awkward, not really sure what to say. He mentally kicks himself for allowing Jack to talk him into coming to this party.

“So...uh…” Kaidan shuffles a bit.

Shepard blinks. He’s been trying to guess Kaidan’s costume, but all he can come up with is ‘mechanic,’ which seems too mundane for the man. But then he finally makes sense of several patches made of cardboard that have been attached to his upper chest. He grins and points. “Ender's Game? Colonel Graff, I presume?”

Kaidan huffs. “I can’t believe you got that. Everyone’s just calling me Wreck-It Ralph.”

“Well, that’s just ridiculous. Ralph’s cover-alls are brown.”

“My point exactly!”

Shepard grins. “And they’re overalls. Not coveralls.”

“Oh, my god. You guys are such nerds.” Ashley smirks. “I need a lot more beer in my system to put up with this shit.” She leaves an awkward silence behind her, made even moreso when Edi prods Joker into dancing with her inside. Joker agrees, but very reluctantly and as they leave Shepard notices the man uses a cane to lean on. Edi walks slowly beside him, her hand tucked in his other arm. Which leaves just Shepard, Kaidan, and Jacob.

Shepard sips at his beer and casts around desperately in his brain for a conversation starter. “So...uh. Good vacation?” He blurts out the words, hoping it doesn’t sound like he’s trying to nose in on his business.

“Huh? Oh! Yeah. I went home to Vancouver for Thanksgiving. It was good. I haven’t been back for a couple years.”

“Oh. Oh! Because Canadian Thanksgiving is in October, right?”

“Right. My parents have an orchard, so it’s always around the time they’re in full cider swing. Mom runs this little bakery they have going in September and October. Makes the best apple fritters. And apple pie.”

“Oh my god, I’m drooling,” Jacob laughs. He drains the last of his beer. “Anybody want anything? I might see if I can find some of that nacho dip Jack bragged about making.”

They both shake their heads and Jacob wanders away, leaving them alone in the dim light of the yard. Someone ‘whoops’ and runs past them, which causes Kaidan to side step, knocking hips against Shepard. “Shit, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Shepard sips at his beer, trying not to feel the dread that wants to cover him. Kaidan lights a cigarette and in the brief light of the flame, he can see the other man’s fingers tremble slightly. Is he cold? or—? It dawns on him that Kaidan might be nervous.

_I should say something. What should I say?_ He wants to put Kaidan at ease, wants to be on as friendly terms as he is with all the friends that had been gathered around him earlier.

“So, uh—” Kaidan says at the same time Shepard says, “Hey, so—” And they both laugh and try to encourage the other to go first, but finally Kaidan insists, so Shepard takes a deep breath and says, “Um, yeah. So. This is maybe kind of weird. I don’t...I’m not...um...like, I know people know who I am. But I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable. I know there’s been several times I’ve met people way, way more famous than I am and it was all I could to not fall over from a dead faint in their presence. It’s all...fucking weird, ya know? So, I thought, maybe I’d just tell you that I’m just a normal asshole like everyone else. I don’t...that’s not….I mean. I’m not bragging or anything.” He feels a blush creep up his neck, and even though Kaidan probably can’t see it ( _Please, dear god, let him not see it_.), he ducks his gaze away from those intense brown eyes. “Look, just...talk nerdy to me or something—” _Oh, fuck! What did you just say?!_ “I mean. Ugh. I’m so shit at this. I’m trying to put you at ease and failing miserably—”

“Not at all—”

“--and I tend to be able to completely insert my foot in my mouth on so many occasions, I can’t even count them.”

Kaidan smirks at that, and then laughs.

_Yes, good! Make him laugh! Pull out all the stops, you asshole._ “It’s kind of a permanent yoga position for me, ya know? Hoof-in-mouth. Pretty sure that’s Hatha yoga…”

Kaidan snorts, shakes his head, takes a long drag on his cigarette. “Uh huh.”

“It’s part of that sun salutation thing,” he grins, willing to push the joke a little further.

“Is that before, or after you pull your leg over your head?”

“Before. Obviously.” He blinks, deadpanning like his life depends on it. “That’s how you get into position.”

Kaidan nods and laughs again. “So, who’ve you met?”

Shepard looks around, “Just, uh. You and your friends. I haven’t been here very long. Jack kinda...drug me over here...”

“Huh? Oh. No. I meant, which famous people have you met?”

“Oh! Sorry, uh…” His face heats up again at the misunderstanding. “Um...so. Sha’ira. The singer?”

Kaidan’s jaw drops for a second before he snaps his mouth shut. “You’ve. Met Sha’ira.”

“Yeah, at this uh…Fundraiser thing.”

“She’s so... _hot_.”

_Okay...so...maybe not gay. Shit._

“Yeah. And you know the worst thing? She’s really, really nice. Like, your best friend nice. And her voice? That’s all her. No auto-tune.”

“Really?”

Shepard nods.

“So, who else?”

“Um…” he squirms a little under the inquiry. “Mark Meer?”

Kaidan turns his full attention to Shepard. “You’ve met Mark Meer. The voice of Blasto, only the most popular cartoon to come out of the Cartoon Network. But more importantly, the voice of Xarlac in Galaxy of Fantasy. And the number one reason I played that video game for over four hundred hours total.”

“Yeah. He, uh...We met when he was auditioning to read for my audiobooks.” Shepard shrugs, trying to be casual. But it’s difficult when he thinks back to that meeting and how the man’s voice had turned his spine into jelly.

“Shit,” Kaidan mutters. “How did you not come in your pants?”

Shepard snorts, spewing the beer he’d just sipped. He coughs, pounding his own chest as the beer burns down his throat.

“I mean,” Kaidan seems to not have even noticed Shepard’s shocked reaction. “That guy’s voice is pure orgasm induction.” He shakes his head, looks over at Shepard, and blinks. “Oh. That was probably...inappropriate.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“But, sweet baby potatoes, he has a voice on him.” The man’s voice drifts off, as if remembering for himself all the hours spent listening to Mark Meer’s voice. It gives Shepard a ray of hope. Perhaps Kaidan is...bi?

He could definitely live with bi.

“What?” He shakes his head, realizing he’d just missed whatever it was Kaidan had asked.

“Mark Meer didn’t do your audiobooks. Raphael Sbarge read your audiobooks. Not that...I mean. I guess you know that.”

“Yeah, no. Not for the past ones. Mark is going to read for the upcoming series. The one that I’m working on right now.”

“Oh!” Kaidan drains his beer, lost in thought. He stares out over the graveyard and nods slightly. “Definitely gonna get me all of those…” he says softly.

~~~~~

It’s not a bad party, all things considered. But after several hours he feels drained, exhausted by the mass of people and noise, even though he’s mostly stayed outside where Kaidan lingers. The man explains at one point that he tends to get migraines and the loud music doesn’t really help, which suits Shepard just fine.

Someone starts a fire in the fire pit and they end up grabbing lawn chairs, huddling around the fire for warmth. Many people come and go and in the darkness, he only really catches names that all blend together: Kelly and James and Samara and Kenneth and Kasumi and Richard. Ashley comes and sits for a while, chiming in on their conversation about favorite movies. He has a hard time figuring her out--she’s rough and soft all at the same time, quick with a joke, sometimes thoughtful, sometimes blurting out opinions that don’t always seem to be fully thought through. Which only makes her human, he supposes.

He sets the half empty bottle of beer that he’s been nursing for the last hour down on the ground. “I should...go.”

Kaidan makes a low noise that sounds like disappointment, but nods. “Yeah, me too. Gotta work in the morning.” He polishes off a can of soda, his head tipping up, revealing a long line of enticing neck.

Shepard swallows.

Ashley cackles. “Lucky you, getting to be on call tomorrow.”

Kaidan swats her arm. “Yeah. Lucky me. Have a shot for me, yeah?”

“I can do that! See ya, losers!”

They wind their way through the graveyard and the thinned crowd of people, some of them passed out on the grass. “Should we,” Shepard points at the house, “let Jack know?”

But Kaidan just waves his hand. “Pfft. You wanna fight through that dance floor, be my guest.”

He really, truly doesn’t.

On the street, Kaidan points to a Jeep that’s parked on the other side of the road. “That’s me.”

“Okay.” He nods down the street, where the cars that had been parked on the sides have thinned out. “I’m down there. Somewhere.”

“Oh.” Kaidan shuffles and shrugs. “You...um. I could...give you a ride? If you want?” His voice sounds tight, as if he’s trying to make it sound like the invitation isn’t a big deal. But Shepard can see the spark of hope in his eyes. Or maybe that’s just a reflection of the street light above them.

He’s on the precipice of saying no, the words very nearly out of his mouth. He stops himself. “Uh...sure! If you don’t mind.”

Kaidan’s smile is quick and warm. He unlocks the Jeep with his key fob. “I don’t mind.”

They get in and it seems so strange, closed in with this other man. It’s difficult to not notice the intimacy of it, how Kaidan clears his throat and apologizes after turning the music way down.

Shepard can’t help the grin. “Duran Duran? Really?”

“Shut up,” Kaidan grumbles, but Shepard can see the smile at the corners of his mouth.

Fuck, he wants to giggle. It burbles around inside his stomach, comes out as a snort that he hopes doesn’t sound as disgusting out in the world as it does in his head. “Uh...up there. Like, two blocks?”

Simon LeBonne croons to them softly, _“...Stalked in the forest too close to hide, I’ll be upon you by the moonlight side...Do do do do do do do dodo_ dododo _dodo…”_ filling the void of somewhat awkward silence that sits between them. He points at his mini Cooper. “That’s it.”

“Okay.” The Jeep comes to a gentle stop. Shepard has his hand on the door when Kaidan says, “Hey, uh...would you...The Strand does this midnight show thing once a month. Next weekend is Bladerunner. Director’s cut. Would you wanna...um...go?”

Shepard’s heart breaks just a little: at the note of hope in Kaidan’s voice; at his bravery in asking; but mostly because for one brief moment, he considers cancelling a book tour just to go to a movie with him. “Uh…”

“It’s okay. You don’t—”

His heart breaks even further at the disappointment in Kaidan’s voice. “I can’t. I’m on tour next month. Book tour. For like...three weeks. And then I’m spending Thanksgiving out East.”

“Oh. Yeah. Duh. Jack told me. I completely forgot that. I’m an idiot.”

“No!” He almost reaches out to grab Kaidan’s arm. Instead he pulls the ridiculous wig off, running his free hand over the stubble on his head. “No. You’re not. I just...um...can I have a raincheck? For when I get back, I mean. I’d...uh...like to go with you.”

Kaidan studies him carefully in the dim light of the truck. “Yeah, you...are you sure? It won’t be the same movie. December is usually something Christmasy…”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He grins, attempting to reassure as best he can. “Is it okay if I ask Jack for your number? When I get back and pick up Rex, I mean. I can call you to set it up.” His heart thuds in his chest with the question, not quite believing his own boldness.

“Yeah,” Kaidan’s voice is warm and low and it takes all of Shepard’s willpower to tug at the door handle, letting in the chill winter air. “Yeah, that’s fine, John.”

He steps out of the car and turns back, his hand holding the door. Kaidan is a shadow, one arm thrown over the wheel, one propping him up as he leans sideways toward the open door. Shepard grins. “Shepard. My friends...call me Shepard.”

“Okay,” he can hear the smile in the man’s voice. It’s soothing in a way Shepard has never experienced and even here on the dark of the street, makes him long to have the words murmured in his ear. “See you around, Shepard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry, Mr. Meer and Mr. Sbarge. I am truly, sincerely sorry for dragging you into this.


	5. Chapter 5

The first text from Jack is a surprise. Just a picture of Rex and Spot laying on the carpet in her home, looking about as chill as any two dogs can be. More pictures follow, spread out over days: the dogs at the park, Rex wearing sunglasses, out for a walk. He appreciates there’s no other commentary, that she apparently just wants him to know his dog is fairing well. He sends back a grateful reply and that’s that.

And then about ten days into his trip, she sends one of Kaidan sleeping on her couch, Rex’s head pillowed on his thigh and Spot curled up next to them. He chokes on a breath, glad he’s alone in his hotel room and not somewhere in public where his blush would be obvious. He studies the picture carefully, Kaidan’s head tilted back and to the side, resting on the back of the couch, one hand on Rex’s chest, the other relaxed at his side. Shepard gets a good view of the hollow divot just underneath his Adam’s apple that peaks through the part in his plaid button-up shirt. He swallows.

He types out his usual thanks, but his thumb hesitates over the ‘Send’ button. Because now it’s a question of what is he thanking her for? Sending a picture of Rex? Or of Kaidan? Would she take it that way? Does he want her to take it that way? Would she show Kaidan his response? He doesn’t want to take the chance that she would, so he deletes the short message and tucks his phone back in his pocket. Maybe tomorrow he can think of something to say.

After all, he _is_ a writer.

He never thinks of anything else to say.

The pictures continue. Sometimes with Kaidan, sometimes just Rex. He responds to all the ones with just the dogs. But still feels strange about saying ‘Thanks’ for a picture of Kaidan. Even though he is immensely grateful. The man is easy on the eyes in a way Shepard hasn’t appreciated in a long time. He finds himself easily distracted whenever a new photo shows up, wondering what it would be like if he had been the one to take the image of Rex slobbering over Kaidan while Kaidan grins and tries to shove the dog off him.

_“This is what you get for sitting on the floor,” Shepard would tell him, taking another picture._

_“Shut up, Shepard.” And he’d take a swipe at his phone, trying to knock it out of his hand._

_Shepard would laugh and raise his hand in the air, the phone safely out of Kaidan’s reach. Which wouldn’t stop the other man from his attempts, pushing Shepard down on the floor with a huff, straddling his hips, laughing down at him—_

The phone buzzes in his hand, waking him from his daydream. He groans inwardly at the caller ID, but answers dutifully.

“Rewrites, Shepard.”

“Why, hello to you, too, Miranda. The tour’s going well, thanks for asking.”

“I can only hold Hackett off so long, you know. You’ve been on the weekly agenda every time for the last three weeks.”

Shepard sighs and falls back on the hotel bed. “You know I can’t work when I’m doing a book tour.”

The woman sighs. “It’s just rewrites—”

“Just!”

“—you can do that in your sleep.” Her voice softens slightly, but he knows her posture is still ramrod straight. He imagines her in her tidy office at Alliance Publishing, dressed in her usual black and white jacket and pencil skirt, feet tucked neatly under the chair, not a hair out of place. For however much he appreciates his editor, he’s very glad not to be sitting in front of her right now. She makes him feel that his organizational abilities and grooming habits will never be adequate. “Shepard. Are you even listening?”

“Of course!” He sits up, wondering what she’d said that he’d missed. “Rewrites. Hackett. All hell will freeze over if I don’t finish them by, uh….the end of the month?”

“They were due at the end of last month.” He winces at her exasperated tone.

“Right. Uh. Right. I’ll—”

“Get them done, Shepard. _Please_.” She hangs up, off to harangue her next hapless victim and Shepard sighs again, reaching for his laptop. He opens up the ‘Archangel - Rewrites’ file and grudgingly sets to work.

~~~~~

Thanksgiving is at least familiar territory. Garry and Tali invite both him and Anderson to their home and they show up with pies held out like offerings to the gods. It’s wonderful to be with his friends.

“So…” Garry corals him into a corner of the kitchen, shoving a beer into one hand. “How’s not-Kyle?”

Maybe it’s not so good to be with friends after all.

Shepard freezes, the beer bottle at his lips, and regards Garry with distrust. The man is a good six inches taller than him, which means he has to tip his head back with how close the other man is standing. An excellent intimidation tactic that he should be immune to by now. “Come on, Shepard. Tell me you at least talked to him.”

“I...uh…” He squirms and takes a cookie off the plate Garry holds out in front of him. It’s one of Tali’s special lemon cookies and he shoves the entirety in his mouth.

“Oh, come on, Shepard! You didn’t even talk to him?”

“Mmf.” The cookie is sweet and tangy and he wishes he could appreciate it fully without this monstrosity of a friend looming over him.

“What are you two conspiring about over here?” Tali appears next to her husband, a brilliant purple scarf covering her head. She looks up at Garry. “Did you tell him about the guy?”

Garry takes a step back and shakes his head, his arms crossed over his chest. “I didn’t tell him about the guy.”

He chases the cookie down with beer. “What guy?”

“Steve Cortez,” Tali says. “He’s new at Garry’s department. Well. He transferred from somewhere in Pennsylvania. And Shepard. He’s adorable. And _single_ —”

“I don’t—” Shepard shakes his head. He’s been the victim of Tali’s matchmaking shenanigans one too many times to be appreciative of her efforts.

“He’s a...wait. What would be the word? His husband died. So that would make him a widower. But that would imply his husband was female. Because a woman who survives her husband is a widow. So what would you call that—when a man’s husband has died and you’re trying to describe the survivor?”

“Pedantic,” Garry says drily and ignores his wife’s light slap on his arm.

“Anyway, he’s coming to dinner.”

“What?”

Garry shakes his head at his wife. “Sorry, Shepard. She got to him before I could warn him off. You know how she is.” He captures the woman within his arm, pulling her close. “An engineer’s brain never stops working. It’s either this engine thing over here or that single person over there.” His voice is affectionate as he looks down at her. “Nothing and no one is safe.”

Tali just giggles and denies nothing.

And the thing is, once Shepard meets Steve, he thinks he could like this guy. There’s something about the sadness of his blue eyes, the timbre of his voice, his self-depreciating laugh. He finds himself leaning in to catch what he’s saying over the din of voices at the dinner table. He seems thoughtful and funny and kind and the only problem is his name isn’t Kaidan. And from the spark of interest he sees in Steve’s eyes, he thinks maybe the other man could like him too.

Steve says as much toward the end of the night, helping carry dishes into the kitchen where Shepard is stacking them into the dishwasher. There’s a brief moment when they’re alone, Steve’s hands piled high with fine china. “Hey, uh...Shepard? What’re your thoughts on hockey?”

“Huh?” He looks up from the loaded rack where he’s been trying to squeeze in one more bowl.

“It’s just...I’ve got tickets to the Rangers on Saturday. If you’re interested. Madison Square Garden.” Shepard catches the nervous shake of breath from the other man and straightens up, nearly dropping the bowl. “If you’re into that sort of thing, I mean.”

“I, uh…yeah. I mean. Yeah, I like hockey.” He clears a space on the counter for Steve to set down the stack of plates.

“Would you, uh, like to go? With me, I mean? No strings attached—”

“Hey, Shepard,” Garry appears in the doorway, holding up two boxes. “Catan or Munchkin? Oh, hey Cortez. You wanna join in? But just so you know, we play for keeps. Winner has to streak down the sidewalk.”

“That seems...like an odd way to reward the winner.”

“Yeah, well, we like to curtail any thoughts of grandeur in people who win too much.” Garry looks pointedly at Shepard.

Shepard shakes his head. “He’s lying,” he says to Steve.

Garry grins. “Yeah, we only make you strip down to your unmentionables. And you can wear shoes if it’s raining.”

“Those are all lies, Steve. Don’t listen to him.”

“Game starts in five minutes! Come play and find out.” Garry wags his eyebrows at them, leaving them alone in the kitchen again.

“Do you really—”

“No,” Shepard shakes his head again, closing the full dishwasher and setting it to run. “He’s full of shit.”

Steve laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling, blue eyes sparkling and Shepard’s heart thunks a little in his chest. No, he’s not Kaidan. But he doesn’t know what’s going to happen when he gets home, doesn’t know what it is that they had planned—is it a date? Just two guys going to a movie?—and even if it is a date, that’s not a guarantee of anything happening further. Steve is here and now and shouldn’t he take advantage of that while he can?

He’s so very rarely attracted to anyone in the first place. Why not look a gift horse in the mouth?

“I’d like to go with you. If the offer is still open.”

Steve’s smile widens, which makes his entire face light up in a way that infects Shepard just by proximity.

No harm done, right?

~~~~~~

It’s a big mistake.

He knows it the moment he meets Steve at the gate. His heart sinks with the reality of having to sit through the game with this really great guy next to him and he knows— _he knows_ —he’s not the person he wants to be with. He struggles through the entirety, wanting to say something, not wanting to spoil the evening. He goes through the motions of being a spectator, but his heart isn’t in it.

And afterward, walking toward the subway, he searches for the perfect words and comes up with nothing (again he fails as a wordsmith).

“So, Shepard…” Steve taps his coat and nods toward the edge of the sidewalk, under the awning of a liquor store. “It’s okay,” he says, once Shepard has followed, hands in pockets, looking anywhere but at the other man. “I get it. I think you’re damned cute, and funny. And smart—”

Shepard opens his mouth, but Steve holds his hand up, bidding him to wait.

“But that doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean we have to date, or...whatever.”

“It’s not...I think you’re a great guy. Any other time. Six months ago even. But—”

“There’s someone else.”

“Yeah. No. I don’t...I don’t know. It’s not like we’ve even been on a date. I don’t know if he’s interested in me...that way. But I kinda feel like, I need to find out, you know?”

Steve nods. “Believe me, I know. The most important thing I’ve learned is if you have the chance to do something extraordinary, you should take that opportunity. It’s how I met my husband.” He shrugs and hunkers into his coat against the stiff breeze that pushes down the street. “I wouldn’t give up any minute he and I had together,” he adds softly

Shepard nods. “Thanks. Yeah. That means a lot.” He hesitates a moment, feeling awkward about leaving, but doesn’t want to drag the evening out unnecessarily. “I should...I should go, I guess. It was really nice meeting you.”

“Yeah, you too.” Steve’s voice is warm, lacking any sort of malice, which just makes his choice all the more heartrending. “Good luck, Shepard.”

Shepard walks away, still feeling regret, but hoping only the best for the other man. If things had been different, maybe if he’d never moved, he could see a future with Steve Cortez. He feels a brief moment of sadness over the loss of that alternate future.

“Hey, Shepard!” Steve’s voice carries over the wind, stopping him in his tracks. He turns and sees him still standing underneath the awning. “If this guy doesn’t think you’re the hottest thing since hipsters in pompadours and beards, he’s fucking nuts.”

Shepard laughs, and waves.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you about the flannel, didn't I?

The way he sees it, he has two options when it comes to contacting Kaidan. The first is asking Jack to act as intermediary, passing phone numbers as if they’re all back in junior high. The mental image of her self-satisfied grin and knowing cackle is enough to put him off that idea immediately.

The other option involves timing. And him coming out of his house in some mad dash while Kaidan is at his house to read the meter. Which means lying in wait all morning (because of course, he’s not going to get any work done; he might as well just write the second Tuesday of every month off as a total wash from here on out). He puzzles over it for several days, worries even more at what to say— _Hey, Kaidan! (He’d be out of breath because he’d just run down from the house to the garage and he hasn’t been running much lately, which he really should do something about.) I saw you drive up and yes, I’ve been watching out of the window for you to get here which is totally not creepy. Wanna go to that movie?—_ or _—Hey, Kaidan! (He’d be out of breath because he’d been running around the house, still needing to do something about this lack of running he’s been doing lately.) Was just running laps around the house. Wanna go to that movie?—or—Hey, Kaidan. (He’d be lounging_ against _the side of the garage, smoking a cigarette, one boot propped up on the wall, being cool and totally not creepy.) Wanna go to that movie? Or not. You know. It’s cool._

He shudders at all these options.

The Sunday before, strong winter winds pick up overnight, pushing in through any minuscule crack in his old house, freshening the air. He burrows under his blankets and listens to the wind howl through the trees. He expects snow in the morning, but finds only frost and frozen water in the birdbath outside his kitchen door. What captures his attention are several limbs that have broken free from a couple trees. He bundles up in his winter coat and he and Rex walk around the house, finding several other limbs down, plus smaller branches and twigs. He grins.

This solves his problem in one fell swoop, as one of the largest branches is close to the garage. Plus he gets to break out his new chainsaw.

Thank you, Mother Nature.

He leaves the branch by the garage for last.

He has a nice pile of firewood by the time he gets to it the next Tuesday morning. The days are mild, at least, sunny and bright, and he likes working outside, dressed in layers of thermals and flannel-lined jacket. He sets aside the largest cuts for the log splitter, building up his store of firewood. The rest goes on a brush pile that he’ll burn in the spring. He rakes up the detritus onto a tarp and pulls it over to the pile where it gets dumped with the other accumulations of yard waste. It’s steady work and he doesn’t notice the passing of time until he hears the low hum of an engine, and then the crunch of gravel under tires telling him someone is coming up the hill.

He pauses, his arms loaded with a heavy log, and sees Kaidan in the truck. He flaps his hand in a wave, his heart suddenly thudding in his chest, and carries the log over to the rest to be split later. He desperately hopes any ruddy cheeks might be explained away by the cold air. Rex barks and ambles over to the truck as it comes to a stop. And then barks again, stubby tail wagging, when Kaidan gets out.

“Hey, buddy!” Kaidan bends down and gives Rex a good rub over, scruffing at his neck folds. “You glad to be home? Yeah, I bet you are. But I think Spot misses you.” The man straightens and Shepard blinks, trying to look like he hadn’t been staring. “Hey, Shepard. Looks like you had some branches come down.”

He nods, has to keep himself from nodding like one of his bobbleheads. “Yeah. Old maple trees, mostly. Which is fine. There had been a pile of firewood the previous owner had left, but now I’ll have plenty.”

“Oh!” Kaidan looks back at the house. “I didn’t know you had a fireplace.”

“Yeah. In the den. Part of that new addition on the back of the house. It’s pretty cozy.”

“Huh. I bet. Old man Kirrahe was a good carpenter. Bet he did all that work himself. He always had some project going on.” He looks back at Shepard, clutching a tablet in one hand. “So, uh...how was the book tour?”

“Good! I mean...exhausting. But it was fine. It’s good to be home. I missed…” _Don’t say ‘You’!_ “...this place. And Rex.”

Kaidan smiles and tucks the tablet up against his chest. He breathes puffs of warm air that dissipate between them. “Rex is a great dog. He and Spot got on really well.”

“Yeah, I uh...Jack sent pictures. To keep me updated.” Did Kaidan know she’d sent pictures of him as well? He refrains from saying anything, not wanting to embarrass the other man. Or himself.

“She kinda got obnoxious with taking pictures,” Kaidan says. He wrinkles his nose and Shepard has a hard time not melting into a puddle at the other man’s feet. “Hope she didn’t bug you too much.”

“No, no. It was fine. I really appreciated it, actually. I used to...well. Rex used to stay with my mom and step-dad, but...”

“Do they live back east?”

He ducks his head. “My step-dad still does. My mom, uh... She died. It’ll be two years in February.”

“Oh, Shepard,” Kaidan takes a half step forward, his hand brushes Shepard’s jacket for a moment before he pulls himself back. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” His voice is husky with genuine sympathy, brown eyes intent on him.

“It’s okay. But thank you.” He picks a dried leaf off his sleeve, crushes it in his glove. “It’s strange. Some days she seems so far away, like...she’s just this distant memory, someone I used to know a long time ago you know? And other days, I think of something and I have to call her right away, to share whatever it is with her. Sometimes I even start to dial before I remember.” He looks up at the blue sky, breathing out a long breath of steam. “I’m not really sure which one is worse.”

“I’d think both would be equally bad,” Kaidan says softly. Shepard looks back down and falls into the depths of his eyes. He doesn’t answer, just nods and grips his fists tightly.

“I should—” Kaidan points with his thumb over at the meter hanging on the side of the garage, “—get back to work, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Shepard nods and takes a step back to the tree branch. He should say something about the movie, but the moment feels so awkward he decides to let it go. Maybe he can figure out some other way to get in contact with him (which seems so strange; the man is standing right there in front of him). If all else fails, there’s always Jack. “Good to see you again, Kaidan.”

“You too, Shepard.” He waves with the tablet. It only takes him a moment to walk to the meter and enter in the information, and then he waves again and heads back to the truck.

_Goddamnit_. What was it his mother used to say?

_“Do one thing each day that scares you.”_

“Hey, Kaidan!” The other man is halfway in his truck, one leg already in, his butt on the seat. He stops and waits as Shepard jogs around to his side. “About that movie. Would you still want to go?”

A smile lights up Kaidan’s face. “The midnight showing? Yeah! It’s _Christmas Vacation_. If that’s up your alley. This weekend. Saturday night.”

“Oh, perfect. Yeah. I’d like that. Should I meet you—” he says, at the same time Kaidan says, “We could grab a bite—”

“Oh.” Shepard nods. “Or that.”

“If you wanted,” Kaidan’s ears turn a bright shade of pink. “We don’t have to—”

“No, I’d like that!” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and tries not to shuffle his feet from nerves. A grin pulls at his cheeks.

“We could go to Zaeed’s. It’s just around the corner from the theater.”

“Yeah. Okay. Should we meet there?”

“Sounds like a plan. Eight okay?”

“That’s perfect.”

Kaidan’s smile is broad and lights up his entire face. “I’ll see you then.” He slides fully into the truck, and then he’s gone with another wave. Shepard stands, frozen on the spot, doing his best imitation of someone who asks handsome men out on dates every day.

But the reality is he’s desperately trying not to hyperventilate.

~~~~~

Zaeed’s bar is hopping, which isn’t really surprising at eight on a Saturday night. Kaidan is already there, waving at him from a booth back in the corner. He weaves his way through the tables, jumping out of the way of the red-haired waitress as she speeds past with a tray full of burgers. The smell lingers behind her and his stomach rumbles, which doesn’t do anything for his nerves. He takes a shaky breath and slides down into the seat opposite Kaidan.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Shepard.”

The waitress materializes at their table, the tray empty and tucked under her arm. “Hey, Kaidan. The usual?”

“Just a beer for now, Kelly. We’re gonna eat though.”

“And you?” She turns her sharp gaze on Shepard and he can’t help feeling like she’s scrutinizing him from the inside out.

“Uh...just...same as Kaidan?”

She nods and is away in a flash, but not before leaving Shepard feeling like he’s sorely lacking in...something. Shepard watches her carefully before turning back to Kaidan. “Does she do that to everyone?”

The man chuckles softly, “You mean make you feel like you’ve just been psychoanalyzed? Yeah. She just finished her masters in counseling. It’s kind of intimidating, isn’t it?”

He breathes out, “Yeah. It’s...weird.”

“Zaeed hates it. He can’t wait ‘til she goes full time at her real job.” He pulls a couple menus from between the napkin dispenser and the katsup and passes one over to Shepard. “Said he’s never felt so over-analyzed.”

Shepard chokes a laugh over the image of the gruff bartender being unwillingly analyzed. He shakes his head and turns his attention to the menu. “So, what’s your favorite?” He eyes the Two-faced Vido burger, more than willing to get it again.

“I like the Chevre It. It has goat cheese and mushrooms. But the Suicide Mission Survivor is really good if you like spicy. Chipotle mayo, pepper jack cheese, and grilled poblano peppers.” Kaidan grins at him over the menu. “I usually get that one.”

“Okay. I’m getting the Chevre It. I’m a sucker for goat cheese.”

Kelly comes back with their beer and takes their order and then she’s gone, leaving a lingering awkward silence in her wake. Shepard surveys the memorabilia on the walls—pictures of the town from earlier days—and takes a drink. “So…”

“So.”

He turns back to Kaidan, “How does a man from Canada end up in a small town in the Midwest?”

He’s flashed a shy smile and a self-deprecating shrug. “When I got out of the service, I needed somewhere to go. Interviewed at a couple different electric companies, but I liked Normandy. Kohoku, he’s the manager, he runs a tight ship and I like that. You couldn’t ask for better coworkers.”

“You served?”

“Yeah. Did my four years. Navy.* Mostly electrical engineering, but I have a field medic rating too. For shits and giggles.”

“Huh.”

“I never saw action.” He ducks his head, looks up at Shepard through his eyelashes. “Not like you.”

Shepard nods. “Yeah. Well. You’re not really missing much.” The lights seem to flicker for a moment and he sees as plain as day the explosion of an IUD. He takes a shaky breath. It’s been over five years, he’s had hours and hours of counseling and he still gets flashes of unbidden memory that rise to the surface when he’s least prepared. He swallows it all down hard with a few more breaths and takes a sip of beer.

“What about you? Why Normandy?”

He shrugs. “There’s nothing I could tell you that you couldn’t look up on the wiki page.”

But Kaidan shakes his head. “I really don’t think that’s true, Shepard. Besides, I’ve kind of...avoided it since I heard you moved here. Didn’t want to seem like I was creeping on you, you know?”

The admission surprises him. Oh, how he knows. “Well, I just...after my mother died, I felt like I needed to escape. Out east...there’s nothing there that doesn’t remind me of her or my past. Everyone kept urging me to move to upstate New York, but even there, it was all too familiar. So I just did this random search for houses for sale in the Midwest. Fell in love with this one. It helps that the scenery is nice around here.”

That earns him a dazzling grin. “Have you been out to Pragia Park? On the North side of town along the river?” When Shepard shakes his head, Kaidan says, “Too bad. You just missed the best time of year. The leaves were gorgeous this fall. But there are some great trails out there. A lot of wooded areas. We took Rex and Spot out there one day.”

“Oh, yeah. I think I remember that picture. It looked like you were on a trail somewhere. You had a red and black plaid shirt on—” Too late does he realize he’s just blurted out what he’d been trying to not bring up. He swallows. Hard. And takes a deep breath.

The way Kaidan’s brow scrunches into furrows might be a good indication he had no idea Jack had been including him in her regular updates. “She...sent you pictures of me?”

He’s not the offender in this; so why does he feel like he’s done something wrong? He should have said right away instead of hiding it like a guilty secret. The god’s honest truth is he appreciated the pictures probably way too much for his own good, and had saved each and every one—including the ones of just the dogs—to his phone. Had even saved them to a separate file where he wouldn’t have to search for them. He feels his face warm, embarrassed over how easily he’d been entrapped by the magic of Jack’s simple texts and how she’d sucked him into her world.

“...she...yeah. Uh. Sometimes? Just when you were in the frame with the dogs. I didn’t ask her to!”

“Okay.” The other man’s posture relaxes and he leans back in the booth, fingers twisting the beer in front of him around and around. “I hope, uh...Well. I guess I didn’t realize.”

He very nearly confesses how he had saved the images, had several times gone back to them when he was laying in the dark of an anonymous hotel room, feeling lonely and wondering if he would always feel so. But before he can say anything, Kaidan says, “I kinda have this feeling like she’s trying to set us up.”

It’s definitely something that’s crossed his own mind ever since she invited him to the Halloween party. “Oh, I know she is.”

Kaidan’s cheeks turn a pleasant shade of pink. “Oh god. I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” It’s not okay, it’s not. Because his heart plunges down to his stomach. Kaidan didn’t intend this to be any sort of date at all. He’s not into him that way.

“I mean, I can ask guys out on dates on my own,” he continues, “without her interfering. She means well. She’s my best friend. But god! When she gets this idea in her head, she doesn’t let up.” He takes a deep breath and leans forward over the table. “Just to be clear, Shepard. I want you to know I’m into you. Not just because you’re a really good writer, which you are. And not because you’re famous or whatever. But you have this little curl to your lip when you smile, and your eyes sparkle—I’ve never met anyone whose eyes sparkle—when you laugh. And I know it’s way too early to be talking about this, but I...look. Sanity check, okay? We didn’t really talk about what this is, going to dinner and the movie and all. But if you wanted it to be a date, I’m very much okay with that—”

He’s not sure why he does it, but he’s leaning forward over the table too, so far that his butt is up off the booth, thankful that the table isn’t any wider, and he presses his mouth to Kaidan’s in one quick kiss, grinning when he sits back down with a flop and sees the look on Kaidan’s face.

“Yeah. I’m okay with that too.”

He’s never managed to kiss anyone into stunned silence before. He feels pretty pleased about that.

After that, he can’t stop grinning. And Kaidan can’t either from the looks of it. He doesn’t remember what they talk about, only that they seem to find unending topics of conversation, any awkwardness from before swept aside. And when Kaidan’s knee knocks his under the table, he knocks back with a shy grin and presses his knee to the other man’s for a couple deliberate seconds, and is pleased to see pink creep back up his neck and to his cheeks.

He feels like a teenager. Breathless with wonder. Giddy with the possibilities. Hormones out of control. He ticks all the boxes and then some.

By the time they make it to the movie they’re both more than a little tipsy. There’s only one trailer for the next month’s midnight showing of _Johnny Guitar_. Kaidan leans close and whispers that the owner of the theater picks the movies and has a soft spot for oldies, which he really appreciates. Shepard has to admit that he does too. There are quite a few people in the theater, many who wave to Kaidan and give Shepard long, questioning looks. Once the movie starts, they scrunch down in their seats, shoulders together, fingers brushing as they reach for the popcorn in the bucket shared between them.

He has a difficult time concentrating on the movie.

He has an even more difficult time when Kaidan sets the empty popcorn bucket aside and reaches over, takes his hand in his warm one and gives it a squeeze. Shepard returns the pressure, his heart leaping in his chest so hard he wonders if it won’t escape and jump away from him. He leans closer, pressing his shoulder and upper arm more fully against Kaidan’s and from that point he remembers nothing but the way Kaidan’s thumb traces a mesmerizing pattern on the back of his hand and the ache of longing and need.

The lights come up and they stumble out of the theater to find a light dusting of fresh snow has fallen, barely enough to cover the ground white again. Kaidan lights a cigarette, bright tip glowing as they walk back to their cars, barely touching, conscious of the other people around them. Small flakes dust their shoulders and land in their hair. He resists the urge to reach out and brush the other man off with his gloved hand. Instead, they walk side-by-side down the darkened streets, their shadows long and lean in the street lamp light, boots crunching in the fresh snow.

Kaidan pauses once they reach his Jeep, crushing the cigarette under his boot. “So…”

He could step forward, be enveloped in the man’s arms. He could put his nose to skin, answer the question of what Kaidan smells like (cigarettes and fresh air and a faint whiff of the cologne that’s had Shepard woozy with desire all night). He could grab onto the back of Kaidan’s coat so hard he would crush the material in his hands. He could have someone to hold onto, even for just a moment. But something makes him wait, forces him to let Kaidan make the first move. Whether it’s his own shyness, even now after the man has given him what amounts to a green light, or that he’s too aware of his own imperfections and wondering why in the hell Kaidan would be at all interested in him, he has no idea and no inclination to ponder. He’s too entranced. He doesn’t step back. But he doesn’t step forward either.

“We should do this again,” Shepard says instead.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Kaidan’s face is almost all shadow and curved edges, but when he steps forward, only a foot away, his face is as clear as it will be in the near-darkness. Which is enough to see that Kaidan is looking at him like he can’t get enough of him. He’s certain this time his heart really will dance away from him, down the street and into the cold, dark night.

“Shepard, can I...I’d like to kiss you. Is that...can I?” Kaidan’s voice is quiet, husky, unsure.

The old joke _I dunno, can you?_ rears its ugly head. He brushes it aside, even though a part of him (the scared part) wants to deflect with humor. The other part of him (the majority of him) wants to kiss Kaidan and knows that making a joke won’t help that happen right now.

He grins. “Yes.”

Kaidan grins back and kisses him.

The tip of Kaidan’s nose is cold where it brushes his cheek, which seems a strange thing to notice when all he’s been thinking about for the last six hours is this one moment. He closes his eyes, leans closer, their chests pressed together. Kaidan’s hands land lightly on his hips, anchor him in place. His own are restless: up his chest to his arms, down to his elbows. As if he can’t settle on where he wants to touch him first (when he really just wants to touch him everywhere). He feels the curve of Kaidan’s lips as he smiles and then his lips part and Shepard’s tongue flicks out and they’re suddenly clinging to each other, breaths deep against each other’s cheeks. A small sound escapes him as Kaidan’s tongue invades his mouth and Kaidan answers by tightening his grip around him for one, too-brief moment before he’s peppering small kisses at the corner of his mouth, his breath a shaky gasp. He finally pulls away with a smile that Shepard answers with his own.

“We should do that again, too,” Shepard says and Kaidan laughs.

“Cheeky.”

“Yes.”

Kaidan’s laugh fills his gut and keeps him company all the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Canada has no Marines division in their military


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's February, that must mean it's time for new years eve...
> 
> _“And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn’t crying for him at all, but for the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again, he would never carve another piece of wood or help us raise doves and pigeons in the backyard or play the violin the way he did, or tell us jokes the way he did. He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them the way he did. He was individual. He was an important man. I’ve never gotten over his death. Often I think what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands? He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.”_ ~Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

_Date Attempt Number 1:_

It’s just dinner at a place called Apollo’s (“A bit more upscale than Zaeed’s,” Kaidan had told him. “They work magic with steak, if that rings your bell.”), but he’s nervous as hell. Maybe more so than when they’d gone to the movie, because there’s the memory of _that kiss_. And how he wants more and then some. It’s been so long since he’s been so interested in someone like this. He forgoes jeans for khakis, pulls on a black sweater and worries at his close-cropped hair more than he’s done in the last year. He sighs and examines himself in the mirror, blinking at himself for a moment.

“Get a grip, Shepard,” he tells himself.

His phone rings in the other room and by the time he makes his way back, the screen already shows a missed call from Kaidan. He answers on the first ring after Shepard calls back. “Hey.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. No. Just...I’m going to have to cancel tonight. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh,” his heart sinks down into his stomach. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, but Ashley’s not. I’m taking her to the ER. It might be her appendix? So I don’t know how long I’ll be there—”

“It’s okay. That’s a pretty good excuse, as excuses go.” He tries a bit of humor to offset his disappointment.

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can try for next week?”

“Sure. Absolutely. Whenever. I—” _just want to see you._ He sits down on the edge of his bed. “I hope she’s okay.”

_Date Attempt Number 2:_

The snow begins the day before their date with fluttering flakes that make their way slowly down to earth. By evening, the snowfall has increased and the wind has picked up, swirling the snow into banks across his driveway and reducing vision so he can barely see beyond the dim glow of the yard light. He stands at the window and drinks hot tea and watches the string of white Christmas lights he’s strung along the porch railing blinking on and off and hopes the six to ten inches of snow predicted turns out to be much less.

In the morning, he realizes it is probably much, much more. The snow is piled up against the sliding glass door higher than Rex stands. He grabs a shovel and clears a path for the dog, who has no desire to linger. Occasional flakes still fall. Shepard looks up at the gray sky and sighs.

Kaidan calls soon after he comes back in the house, stomping snow off his boots. He wishes he’d thought to put coffee on before he’d gone outside. Cold fingers fumble the phone so he barely manages to catch it when it slips from his hands. In his fumbling, he must have hit the ‘answer’ button because he can hear Kaidan’s voice through the speaker. He puts the phone to his ear only to discover he has it upside down. “Damnit.”

“Shepard?”

“Yeah. Sorry. The phone slipped.”

“Ah. Heh. Okay. So, listen. Um…”

“You’re going to have to cancel tonight?”

“I’m so sorry, Shepard. We’ve got power lines down, and Ashley is still out from her surgery.”

“I understand.”

“We’re going to get this figured out, I promise.” The other man’s voice dips down lower, sending an electric shock through Shepard’s spine.

“I won’t say I’m not disappointed. But I really do understand, Kaidan. You have your job to do.” A puddle of water has collected underneath his boots. He thinks about kicking them off, but doesn’t want to slip and land on his ass while on the phone with Kaidan. So he stares down at the puddle and wishes things were easier.

_Date Attempt Number 3:_

Christmas comes and goes. Shepard had given Rex over to Jack again and flew out East to spend the holiday with Anderson. When he comes back between Christmas and New Year’s, it’s to find a new layer of thick snow has settled and the temperature dropping by the hour. He collects Rex and hurries home as the wind blows drifts across the cleared roads. He’s no sooner in the door when his phone buzzes and his heart skips seeing Kaidan’s name.

“What’re you doing New Year’s Eve?” The man asks without preamble.

Shepard grins and sinks down into a kitchen chair, letting Kaidan’s voice wrap around him. “I dunno. What am I doing New Year’s Eve?”

“There’s a thing at Apollo’s. They do this special dinner every year. _Prix fixe_. Four courses. They do it up right. Would you like to go?”

“Yeah.” He should feel embarrassed, he supposes, at how readily he agrees. He isn’t at all. “I’d like that.”

In the days in between, the temperature drops further. The wind howls around his house, through the branches of the pines. He clears the snow with the old tractor he’d gotten and watches it fill itself back in again by the next day. The weather pattern seems to hold above them for the singular purpose of torment. He hunkers down and writes because that’s all there is to do.

He sends a message to Kaidan before he leaves the house that he’s on his way and Kaidan responds back _Third time's a charm!_ He smiles and crunches through the snow to the garage, the air frigid on his exposed cheeks. His car is cold and he supposes he should have thought to let it warm up a bit before he heading out. But that all becomes moot when nothing happens when he tries to turn it over.

Not even a crank of gears.

_Shit_. He should have anticipated this.

He sinks his head down on the wheel and groans. And then he calls Kaidan.

“My car is dead.”

He hears Kaidan sigh. “You’re still at home?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I—”

“Okay. I can...I got this, Shepard. Don’t go anywhere.”

He laughs. “In what? The tractor?”

“Just. Sit tight. Gimme like an hour, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Trust me. I’ve got this.”

“Be careful, Kaidan.”

“Always.”

He shovels the walk (again) since he’s outside. He brings more firewood to the backdoor and starts a fire in the fireplace once he’s inside. He looks around the house with a nervous eye, but thinks it doesn’t look too bad. He’s fairly meticulous with cleaning, something even his mother had given him a hard time about. Especially considering he actually enjoys the cathartic act of straightening and organizing. Which most people find strange, he knows.

Rex follows him around the house as he fluffs pillows on the sofa and realigns books in a bookshelf. He catches a shaky breath, trying to not notice the passing of time. He adds more firewood to the fire. He doesn’t know what to do about setting the table, figuring Kaidan will be grabbing burgers from Zaeed’s, so he lets that go until he arrives.

An hour and twenty minutes pass before he sees headlights slowly turn from the road into his long lane and creep slowly toward his house. The jeep’s engine rumbles as Kaidan parks under the yard light in the same spot he usually parks when there to check the meter. His hand trembles when he opens the door to Kaidan holding a large box in his hands with two bottles of wine peeking up over the top.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Sorry. Adrien wouldn’t let me leave Apollo’s without detailed instructions on heating everything up.” He hands over the box so he can take off his coat. Shepard watches him, clutching the box tightly to his chest, and finds it difficult to breathe what with the man standing in his foyer. Kaidan scruffs at Rex before he stands back up from removing his boots and placing them carefully on the matt beside the door. He catches Shepard staring and smiles. “Happy new year, Shepard.”

“I…” he looks down into the box and sees foil containers and take out boxes holding mysteries. It all smells delicious and it overwhelms him. “You didn’t have to do all this. I figured you’d just stop and get burgers or something.”

Kaidan laughs and takes the box back. “Not for a night like tonight.”

In the kitchen, Kaidan takes over, shooing Shepard away after directing him to turn the oven on. “You could get us a couple glasses. For wine?”

He studies the two bottles. One of white and one champagne. Kaidan takes the champagne bottle and places it in the refrigerator with a wink that makes Shepard’s heart stutter in his chest. “Okay.”

Things are set out in an organized manner on the counter, containers placed into the oven. Kaidan searches through his cupboards and finds a saucepan that he pours something that smells so good it makes Shepard’s mouth water and sets it to warm. Another saucepan is filled with a creamy sort of soup. Shepard watches him work in a silent sort of awe. “Do we...I have a fire in the den. Do you want to eat out there? I didn’t set the table or anything.”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

He grabs cutlery and napkins and sets them up on the small, round table next to the large bay window that sits off to the side of the fireplace. It’s become a favorite spot of his to have breakfast in the winter, now that the sun is low in the south and shines in in the mornings. Rex has curled up on his bed next to the fire, snuffling at him in curiosity.

“Oh, this is cozy.” Kaidan follows him in a moment later with two glasses of wine. He hands him one with a smile that does nothing to ease the nerves in Shepard’s gut.

Somehow he manages to keep his hand from shaking when he takes the glass. “Yeah. I spend a lot of time here.” He watches Kaidan take in the leather sofa and club chairs, the full bookshelves, the dog, the fire.

“I can see why.” He taps his glass on Shepard’s. “Cheers.”

“Salut.” The wine is crisp and dry and hits his tongue in a subtle explosion of flavors. “Mm. This is nice.”

“Yeah.” Kaidan reaches out and takes his glass away, setting it aside with his own. “Forgive me, Shepard, but I—” he steps closer “—really need to…” The man grins, his hands coming to rest on his hips. His brown eyes search his face, looking for what, Shepard can’t even imagine.

And then his attention turns to Shepard’s mouth, all concentration and intent. He leans in and kisses him.

Softly, at first. So softly his lips could almost be air. But then Shepard moans softly and Kaidan’s arms come around him, holding him closer. The kiss deepens, tongues flicking along each others’. Shepard tastes the tang of smoke, the sweetness of wine and he groans, his own arms holding tight to Kaidan because he can’t believe the man is really here in his own house, because he suddenly needs an anchor to hold onto. Because he doesn’t want to let go.

Kaidan is, by far and away, the best kisser he’s ever had the pleasure to kiss. Or be kissed by. So that when he does, finally, break away, Shepard leans forward, chases after him for a fraction of an inch, wanting more. He opens his eyes when Kaidan laughs softly, feeling somewhat dazed.

“You’re really good at that,” Kaidan says into the sensitive skin just below his ear. His fingers tighten on Shepard’s back, brushing over his sweater in a familiar, intimate gesture.

Shepard has to swallow hard to even keep his breathing continuing, much less even. He concentrates on the warmth of the other man’s body, the solid feel of him under his fingers, the light puff of air on his flesh. How many times has he imagined this? Being kissed by this man? More times than he’d like to admit in recent weeks. He wants to catalog every touch, every brush of cloth, each breath in and out through Kaidan’s nostrils. The smell of him. The taste of him. He needs it, wants it, all. He knows, all too well, his writer’s brain could take over at this moment. He could distance himself too easily right here, taking mental notes of everything. Has to, in fact, stop himself from trying to find the right word to describe the pressure of Kaidan’s lips (insistent, soft, penetrating—no, no, that’s his tongue, determined), forces himself out of his head and back into his body.

“So are you,” Shepard says, softly.

When Kaidan whispers, “I can’t quite believe this is real,” Shepard knows exactly what he means, although perhaps it’s for different reasons.

“Do you want me to pinch you?”

“Maybe just...kiss me again instead?” Which is an invitation, said in a smoky voice that twists through his head and twines about his soul, so that he has no trouble accepting.

He skims his mouth along Kaidan’s jaw, smooth from being freshly shaven, to find his lips ready and willing and open. He loses himself in the kiss, the press of their bodies, the proof of undeniable physical attraction between them that he so desperately wants to grind into. He knows nothing about this man, really. But he wants to. Wants to find out what his favorite food is, what he was like as a kid, what his dreams are. He groans and breaks the kiss. Kaidan smiles and sighs softly, but hard enough he can feel the puff of air on his chin.

“I should...check on dinner. Probably wouldn’t be a good thing to burn your house down the first time I’m here.”

“Technically it isn’t the first time,” Shepard says. “You’re here every month.”

Kaidan laughs softly. He feels the deep vibration of it against his stomach. “You noticed that, did you?”

“Your truck engine is really loud,” Shepard grins back at him, but Kaidan’s expression clouds, his eyebrows creasing.

“Oh god. Does it disturb you? While your working?”

_Every goddamn month._

He shakes his head. “No.” Kaidan tips his head and studies him, like he doesn’t quite believe him. So Shepard reaches up and cups his cheek, smooths his thumb over his smooth skin. “What could possibly be distracting about a handsome man showing up in my driveway?”

Kaidan laughs at that, his body relaxing again. He shakes his head. “Flatterer.”

“I speak the truth. That’s what writers do.”

“Uh huh.” He steps away, releasing his hold on his waist and heads back to the kitchen. Shepard follows, his eyes on the fit of Kaidan’s pants. He closes his eyes briefly and swallows another groan. “I thought all writers were liars.”

“Well, yeah. That too.” He watches Kaidan bend down to check whatever’s in the oven, then dig through his cupboards and bring down soup bowls and plates. He uncovers a take out one container full of fresh vegetables and another with thinly sliced meats, cheeses, mustard, and pickles and hands them to Shepard. “This can go out.”

Kaidan follows with a small, covered saucepan and a paper bag with assorted breads. The small table is loaded with food. And that’s only the appetizers.

“This looks amazing. Is that bagna cauda?”

“Yeah.” Kaidan retrieves their wine glasses. “Adrien’s outdone himself this year. There’s a creamy potato soup. And then pork ragu with polenta. And dessert.”

“Oh my god,” Shepard slides down into his chair. “I’m gonna have to pace myself.”

It’s a phenomenal meal, and the company equally so. They don’t even eat half of it, although the soup is so good he cleans his bowl and wishes there were more. The conversation between them is easy and Kaidan is charming. It feels as if they’ve known each other longer than they have. When discussion turns from video games to tabletop games and Kaidan admits to preferring rogue over magic users, a heated discussion takes place between the merits of both.

Shepard shakes his head. “I haven’t played D&D for...well, since I moved out here. I kind of miss it.”

“Oh. Well. There’s a game that I play in on Sunday nights. At Vega’s apartment. He runs it. They’d probably be okay with you joining if you wanted.”

“Vega? Zaeed’s son? Who cooks at the bar?”

“Yeah. Technically he’s his step-son. Not that Zaeed has ever treated him like anything less than his own flesh and blood. But yeah, James does a homebrew. Comes up with some really fun adventures.”

Shepard has to suppress his surprise. He would have never guess the beefy cook who makes the best burgers he’s ever had is into Dungeons and Dragons, much less writes his own adventures to run. “Well, I...if you don’t think they’d mind? Who all plays?”

“Me, Jack, James, Samantha. Gianna if she’s in town. Jacob when he can, which isn’t much lately. He and his wife just had a baby. Actually it’d be nice to have someone else join.”

“Yeah, I’d...I’d like that.” It feels so normal, a part of his old life that he’s missed terribly. He nearly feels giddy with the rush of anticipation.

He chases Kaidan from the kitchen to clean up the dishes. They’ve polished off the bottle of wine, saving the champagne for midnight, so he delves into his stash of whiskey and brings the man a scotch. Kaidan stands in front of his bookshelf. He has a book in his hands when he turns at Shepard’s approach. The man smiles warmly and it’s enough to melt Shepard’s heart. “I didn’t know if you’d want ice,” Shepard hands the glass over.

“Neat is fine.” He buries his nose in the glass, inhaling the smoke and peat from the liquid. “Mnm...Don’t know if I deserve _this_.”

“Sure you do.” He looks at the book, Kaidan’s thumb holding a spot open. “ _Fahrenheit 451?_ One of my favorites.”

“Yeah, mine too. There’s this part where he talks about his grandfather—”

“And all the things that won’t be made because he’s died.”

Kaidan nods. “It makes me think of my grandmother. She was born in Japan. Her father was a potter and she learned everything from him. She could make the thinnest bowls. Holding one was like having an eggshell in your hands. So light and delicate. She taught me how to mend broken pottery using gold and other metals. Everything she made was so beautiful, but the mended pottery even more so for having been repaired. The more it’s broken, the harder it is to put back together, but the webbing of the metal makes it so gorgeous.” He turns and carefully replaces the book back in its empty spot. “She was a true artist.”

“You miss her.”

“Yeah. She practically raised me. Especially once Dad retired from the service and my parents bought the orchard. There was always so much work to do around the place. They set up a studio for her in one of the buildings and she’d take me out there and give me clay to play with once she was certain I wouldn’t eat it,” he grins. “When she died, it seemed like such a waste, because she had so much in her left to create. She never stopped.” He blinks, his eyes shimmering.

“I’m really sorry, Kaidan.”

“Yeah. I...thanks.” He shrugs and takes another sip of whiskey.

“So.” He doesn’t want to turn the topic away from Kaidan’s grandmother, but he also doesn’t want the man to feel like he has to bear his soul either.

“So?”

Shepard grins. “Ever play Magick the Gathering?”

Kaidan grins back. “No. But why do I have the feeling I’m about to?”

~~~~~

Shepard groans and sits back in his chair. “I can’t believe you beat me. Are you sure you haven’t played before?”

“Beginner’s luck. And you gave me the deck.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t have many regrets in life, but that’s one of them.”

Kaidan laughs and gathers up his cards, stacking them back together neatly with long, dexterous fingers. “Oh, I see. You thought you could just clean the floor with me?”

“I didn’t count on you being such a fast learner. Should have known better than to underestimate you.” He watches Kaidan check his phone for the time. “How we doing?”

“Six minutes.”

“Perfect.”

“Champagne?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” He leads Kaidan to the kitchen, retrieving champagne glasses (that he needs to dust off) while the other man peels the foil from the bottle. He lets Rex outside, watching the snow as it piles up on his (now-covered) sidewalks. He’s surprised by their easy intimacy, how quickly the time has passed since Kaidan showed up on his doorstep. Him being here in Shepard’s house feels casual and intimate and so right it gives him a small thrill down his spine. Rex whines to be let back in so he slides the glass door open for him, shivering at the chill that tries to push its way inside.

“You wanna do the honors?” Kaidan holds the champagne bottle out to him, but Shepard waves his hand.

“All yours. I’ve never been any good with those contraptions.”

Kaidan blinks at him. “You...it’s just a champagne bottle.”

“Yeah. You know that cork could take someone’s eye out, right? And I kinda tend to, uh...make a mess.”

Kaidan looks at him for a long moment, the champagne bottle still held outstretched. And then Kaidan’s eyes twinkle with a merry sort of wicked light and a grin lights up his face as he gives the bottle one firm shake.

“Uh…”

“If you can’t have a little explosion on New Year’s Eve, when can you?” The man’s voice dips low and sensual and Shepard’s not quite sure if he’s talking about champagne anymore. He feels his face heat at the double meaning, his heart suddenly racing in his chest. He watches with fascination as Kaidan’s thumb presses up against the cork, noting the wire has already been loosened.

“Kaidan…”

“Shepard.” His knuckle turns white as he pushes, eyes locked with his own. Shepard’s eyes widen as he sees the cork move a fraction of an inch, and then—POP!—the cork explodes off with built up pressure, hits the corner of a cabinet and bounces off, hitting the floor. A bubbling foam of champagne spurts from the bottle and Kaidan laughs, reaching for one of the glasses to try and capture the spillover.

“Jesus!” Shepard rushes forward, skidding through over the wet floor, losing control as he bumps into the counter, his hand accidentally knocking Kaidan’s hand away. Champagne spills onto his sweater and he pulls back, backhanding Kaidan’s arm, sending another jolt of cold through him as more champagne pours down his chest. “Shit! Sorry—”

Kaidan laughter seems almost uncontrollable. He attempts to step back, away from Shepard’s flailing arm only to hit the refrigerator behind him with a grunt. He manages to set the bottle aside, grabbing Shepard’s hand with wet fingers, pulling him closer. Shepard’s heart trips over itself at the look of intent in Kaidan’s eyes, his own laughter faltering.

“You’ll get wet—”

“I don’t care.” He pulls him against his chest, his mouth on his, moving over him with heat, the corners of his mouth still pulled in a grin. Shepard leans into him, pressing him back on the fridge, moaning into his mouth. Kaidan delves into him, one hand pressing the back of his head to keep him still, kisses devouring Shepard’s body and mind. Damp fingers pet up from his jaw to cheek, then into his hair with a rush of air from his lungs. “God, Shepard.”

He holds the man tight at his hips, not wanting to let go. “Kaidan,” he whispers, just to test his name on his lips, wondering what it would be like to say it in the dark, with nothing between them but a fine sheen of sweat. The image emboldens him, his hands roaming up Kaidan’s chest to hold him firmly for a brief moment before he has the other man boxed in, hands braced on the refrigerator door to either side of his head. He kisses him hard, brow furrowed with the intensity of his need. He wants to kiss him everywhere, but starts with a line along his jaw, lips sliding down to the crook of his neck. Kaidan gasps as he finds a tender spot. A hand lands on his ass, pressing him closer and there is no denying the arousal he feels through Kaidan’s trousers.

“Shepard?”

“Mnm?” He licks a stripe on skin, from neck to ear.

“You should…” He gasps again as Shepard bites gently on his earlobe. “...I’d like to...have a tour. Of your house.”

Shepard pulls back, searching Kaidan’s face for clues as to the nature of his odd request. “A...tour?”

“Yeah. You know.” He leans forward and whispers in his ear, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Dining room. Stairs. _Bedroom_.”

Shepard’s heart pounds at his words, his intent registering quite clearly. “I…”

“I mean,” Kaidan pulls away just a little, concern clouding the passion in his eyes, “if you wanted to, that is.”

He studies him for a long moment, his breath slowing slightly, but his interest most certainly not abated. Slowly, he stands upright, grabbing the neck of the champagne bottle with one hand, and taking Kaidan’s hand in his other. Heat rushes to his face at the desire Kaidan displays so openly. It’s been a long time since he’s had such a look directed at him, and him willing to do anything and everything about it. He swallows and nods and leads him upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exploding champagne by request from maxrev. Hope you enjoyed!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*dusts off smut-writing part of brain*_   
>  _*ups rating*_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> But when the Lord up above you  
> Sends someone to love you  
> The blues are something you lose  
> You’re so busy doing  
> The things that you’re doing  
> That love ain’t got no time  
> For brewin’ the blues
> 
> [Billie Holiday-The Blues Are Brewin’ (lyrics by Eddie Delange/Louis Alter)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iVCmANFMf_Y)

It seems a bit strange, leading a man to his bedroom. Shepard tries not to think of himself as ‘rusty’, but it has been a few years. Since before his mother died certainly. He doesn’t even want to think about the last (disastrous) relationship and how it crashed and burned. And burned him well, it had. He’s been slow to get back on the horse because of what happened with Toombs. He’s so very ready now, however.

Even though he’s nervous as hell.

Kaidan follows him quietly up the stairs, crowding him from behind when they reach the top. He takes Shepard’s hand in his and brushes his lips on the back of Shepard’s neck, sending a chill down his spine. Messages from brain to body falter somewhere on the way and he stumbles, feeling like a gawky sixteen-year-old again, tripping over his own feet. Brain function stops entirely when Kaidan wraps his arms around him. Sharp teeth scrape the spot where he’d kissed only seconds before.

“Er…”

“Uh huh?”

“Bedroom’s…” he waves the champagne bottle halfheartedly in the direction of the room at the end of the hall.

“Show me?” Kaidan makes no move to release him, however, just tightens his arms and continues his mind-fritzing assault on Shepard’s neck.

He cranes his head to look at Kaidan over his shoulder. Had his mind not already been in a frazzled state, Kaidan’s brown eyes looking at him with such intensity and desire would have done the trick. He wonders when the last time was that he’d breathed. Certainly not in the last minute.

Shepard turns slowly in the circle of Kaidan’s embrace, his free hand slowly sliding up his chest. He grins and takes a step backward toward the bedroom, delighted when Kaidan laughs softly and takes a small step forward to follow along, leaning to kiss Shepard again. They continue on, Shepard’s hand gliding up to Kaidan’s shoulders and then around his neck, the bottle hanging from his fingertips. It’s almost a dance if somewhat shuffling at times, with the occasional “Sorry” said against his lips as Kaidan steps on his toes. Shepard just laughs, feeling the corners of Kaidan’s mouth turn up, unable and undesiring to stop kissing him.

He hits the wall and Kaidan is quick to press him against it, his lips harder and more insistent. “Mmf—” He maneuvers Kaidan to the side and then back, in through the bedroom door. The recessed panels of the door press into his back as he turns and now takes a step forward so that Kaidan has to take one backward. Eyes closed, unable to do anything other than kiss and be kissed in return, he finds the edge of his dresser with his knuckles, banging the champagne bottle against the wood with a heavy thud. He manages to place the bottle on top of the dresser, pushing it back to make sure it won’t spill. He then searches for the light switch, finding it after moments of fumbling and the two lamps to either side of the bed cast the room in a warm light.

Kaidan breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against Shepard’s, both of them breathing heavily. “You sure you’re okay with this?” Kaidan asks. His hands travel lightly up and down Shepard’s back, his touch soothing and so tender.

“Yeah. Very much okay.” He kisses Kaidan again, but lightly, at the corner of his mouth.

Kaidan nods. “Okay.” He takes a step back, hand trailing down Shepard’s arm to take his hand. “Anything I should know? Places you don’t like to be touched? Things you don’t like?” His voice lowers, turns suggestive. “Things you _do_?”

A thousand images of various body parts race through his brain-- _touch me there and there and there_ \--but to actually come up with the words, to give voice to his desires seems almost impossible. And as for things he likes? His brain stutters and he becomes aware that his mouth has been opening and closing--for who knows how long?--as he searches for words. He’s not inexperienced in bed by any means. But he’s never had anyone ask him a question like that before they’d even taken off their clothes. “I...I mean. I guess I’m pretty vanilla? There isn’t anywhere you can’t touch me, although my hip might give out depending on...er...position.” He feels his face heat simply from imagining what sort of position that might be exactly. “Uh…”

Kaidan’s smile is warm with affection. This close Shepard can see the corners of his eyes crinkle into crow’s feet, a small detail certainly, but one that endears him to the other man in a surprising tug at his heart. “I promise to be gentle. And if I’m not, just let me know, okay?”

It’s all he can do to nod. Then it occurs to ask the same question back. “Uh...what about you?”

Kaidan tugs him closer until their bodies are once again pressed against each other. “You can touch me anywhere,” he says in his ear, voice rumbling around his apparently empty brain. He resists the urge to roll his eyes back in his head. “And I’m game for _anything_. Especially if it’s something you like.”

“God, _Kaidan_.” His name is a breath, uttered without thought. He wants to say it again and again and again.

“Communication is key, Shepard. In all things.” Which is about the sexiest thing Shepard’s ever heard. Kaidan breathes a line down Shepard’s neck, lips barely grazing sensitive flesh, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Kaidan’s hands rest lightly on his hips, thumbs stroking the fabric of his trousers in a very distracting manner.

“Yeah…I...” He wonders how in the hell Kaidan can even think to get coherent words out of his mouth, much less form sentences. Shepard, for all his ability to craft words on the page, feels his sudden loss of ability to speak so much that it makes him feel a babbling fool. He takes a deep breath and turns his head, lips nudging Kaidan’s ear. “Yeah...”

Strong arms wrap around him and his senses are assaulted with the vibrant, responsive body pressed to his. It’s almost too much to take in--the rise and fall of Kaidan’s chest as he breathes, the firm press of his legs, his hardness as it rubs his own. He catalogs them all in a moment and the simmering fire of need turns to a burning ache in a flash of fueled desire.

“Kaidan,” he whispers, “I want you.”

It seems to be all the other man is waiting for. Hands travel down his back to his waist, seeking underneath his sweater, wool bunching up to expose his flesh to the coolness of the room. His breath hitches at the touch, anticipating more and getting only the lightest of touches. At the same time, Kaidan’s lips seem to magnetically find the tenderest spot at the crook of his neck, sucking in skin for a brief moment, but enough for Shepard to shudder and jerk his shoulder up.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods, hand going to the back of Kaidan’s head to encourage him to repeat the action. “Very okay.”

Kaidan laughs softly, a vibration more in his chest than a sound from his mouth, and returns to the same spot, sucking in skin a little harder, hands holding him firmly in place. Shepard groans, a sound that seems almost otherworldly in the quiet of the room. He becomes aware their dance has renewed, Kaidan slow-stepping him backward toward the bed until he feels the mattress on the back of his calves. Kaidan releases him, placing a hand on Shepard’s chest to push him all the way until he’s forced to sit. He looks up at the other man with what he’s fairly certain is somewhere between wide-eyed wonder and outright greed.

“Do you have any idea how goddamn beautiful you are, John?” Kaidan pulls at the corner of his lip with his teeth, studying him as if he’s strategizing at how to take him apart piece by piece.

His gaze in and of itself is enough to undo Shepard, excitement coursing through his veins with zinging jolts of electricity. The compliment returns heat to his cheeks and he shakes his head slightly, wanting to brush it off. He’s far from beautiful--hard and scarred and broken would be far closer to the truth of it, but the way Kaidan looks at him makes him doubt his own vision of himself. He blinks several times. If Kaidan can throw words like that around, so can he. “You’re amazing. And gorgeous…”

The corners of Kaidan’s mouth curve up in a slow smile and Shepard wonders at the rosy hue that tinges Kaidan’s own cheeks. He only has a moment to ponder, however, before Kaidan’s fingers take the edge of his shirt and begin to tug them up. He slowly reveals his muscled stomach, the trail of hair that travels down between the ‘V’ at his hips, and then up to well-defined pecs and peaked nipples as he pulls the shirt up and over his head, throwing it aside where it lands on the floor. Shepard sees a flash of a tattoo on the inside of his left forearm, an impression of words, but his eyes are drawn back to Kaidan’s chest, traveling upward to his face. For a moment, Kaidan seems almost unsure, standing bare-chested in front of Shepard. As if there could be any doubt how magnificent he is.

“C’mere.” Shepard reaches out and takes his hand, leaning backward to draw Kaidan down towards him. The moment stretches out as Kaidan props himself on the bed with his fist, the other releasing Shepard’s hand to pull at his sweater, leaving a trail of shivering fire as fingers trace up his skin. Shepard props himself on his elbows, sighing at the light, enticing touch as Kaidan reveals more skin, more muscle. More of the burn scar that marrs his stomach and side.

Kaidan shifts, redirecting his gaze to Shepard’s stomach and then leans down, placing one kiss and then another and another--on the scar, not on the scar--pushing the sweater up out of the way until it’s up to his armpits. He watches the top of Kaidan’s head and then closes his eyes with a moan when he feels the swipe of wet tongue as Kaidan licks a stripe from his navel straight up to the center of his chest. Shepard falls back on the bed, suddenly every muscle in his body weak and unwilling to do his will.

“Kaidan…”

“Mm?” The man moves slightly, swirling his tongue over a nipple, then biting with careful teeth, sucking the peak into his mouth so that Shepard can’t help but jut his chest upward. He runs a hand through Kaidan’s thick hair, resting his hand on the back of his head as he moves to the other nipple, giving it equal time and pleasure. Shepard squirms at the touch, blood coursing through him. He feels engorged and so very ready, and Kaidan hasn’t even touched him anywhere below the belt yet. At this rate, he’s going to come like a teenager, with embarrassing swiftness, and messily in his pants.

“Off,” Kaidan whispers, pushing again at his sweater, but doesn’t do anything to let him up. The neck gets caught as he tries to maneuver it up and over his head. He gently tugs pushing it up and over, sliding along his extended arms until he stops with a grin. Shepard’s arms are captured above his head and could easily escape the sweater, shuck it off entirely, but the gleam in Kaidan’s eyes keeps him frozen in place. His naked chest rises and falls with panting breaths, drawing Kaidan’s gaze back down, traveling over his exposed, vulnerable flesh. “Is this okay?”

Shepard barely has the wherewithal to nod before Kaidan smiles. “Don’t move,” he whispers and returns to Shepard’s chest, leaving a trail of kisses again, but this time moving _down_ with clear intent. Shepard watches with extreme interest as he stops at the line of his trousers, one finger hooking into the latch of his belt. He looks up, brown eyes blown wide with desire. “May I?”

“Y—” His voice catches, throat tight and dry. He tries again. “Yeah. Please.”

Kaidan doesn’t look away as he slips his finger underneath, pulling the buckle slightly to release it from its hold. And he doesn’t look away as his thumb works the button of his trousers. Nor does he look away as the button pops free and he finds the zipper, guiding it down so slowly he can feel nearly every single tooth give way. Everything Kaidan does is slow, but sure, and Shepard is fairly certain, designed to make his head swirl with single-minded desire. He watches as Kaidan pulls the waist of his trousers down slightly, just enough to slip his hand in and cup him with a warm hand, fingertips honing in on the dewy moisture that’s seeped from his tip and soaked into the fabric of his briefs. Shepard’s head falls back and he closes his eyes with a groan. His hands itch with the need to touch Kaidan, so he pushes the sweater off, runs his fingers through Kaidan’s hair--registering thick and soft--just before he feels the heat of the other man’s breath.

It’s the only warning he has before lips enclose him through fabric.

“K--Kaidan…”

It’s not enough, but overwhelming for being so tantalizing, a promising torment of things to come. He shudders, fingers gripping strands of Kaidan’s hair as he licks at his tip, teeth lightly biting and pulling at the fabric. He’s dimly aware of Kaidan pulling at his trousers, slowly guiding them down to his thighs. Shepard is forced to let go of his hold as Kaidan moves lower to remove the trousers completely. They land on the floor, leaving Shepard in only underwear and socks. And then the socks are gone, first one and then the other, Kaidan leaving a hot trail of kisses down the side of his leg and then up the other, but this time on the inside, forcing Shepard’s legs to fall open by the time he gets to his knees. Shepard grabs up bunches of the bedcover in his hands, gasping and twitching as Kaidan’s mouth hits the tender spot just above his knee.

“Is this okay?” Kaidan asks.

“Yeah, just...ticklish right there.”

Kaidan huffs. “So noted,” he says, with such warmth and affection that Shepard opens his eyes and looks down. Kaidan grins up and him, a more than slightly devilish gleam making those brown eyes sparkle. His laugh dies in his throat when Kaidan returns to the exact same spot and bites, sucking in Shepard’s flesh and then releasing him with a pop and a lick at the wet spot he’d created.

“You’re evil, Kaidan Alenko.”

One of Kaidan’s eyebrows twitches and his smile turns wicked and hungry. “Never said I wasn’t, John Shepard.”

He rubs his naked toes along Kaidan’s pants, planting both feet under his arse, flexing his calf muscles to try and draw the other man up toward him. Or at least to encourage him to return to his upward journey. “Never said that was a bad thing.”

Kaidan laughs at that and moves upward, stalking over Shepard’s body until he has Shepard caged in underneath him. “Good,” Kaidan says, once he’s looking down at him and the lust and longing in his eyes--in his voice--makes Shepard shudder and squirm. He aches for Kaidan to touch him, anywhere would do at this point. He hooks his legs around Kaidan’s hips and draws him down until their skin-to-skin, chests rising and falling a-rhythmically against each other. Shepard lifts his hips and rubs, seaking friction as Kaidan kisses him, long and hard, his own hips moving just enough to quicken their breaths.

“God, I hope you have condoms,” Kaidan says against his mouth, tongue invading in a wet-slick slide that Shepard answers with a moan, biting at Kaidan’s lower lip.

“Yeah...In the—” He waves in the direction of the bedside table, unable to form coherent words into a semblance of a comprehensible sentence. Kaidan shifts over him, reaching for the bedside table, stretching over his body, _rubbing_ over him in such a manner Shepard is fairly certain is deliberate. His suspicions are confirmed when he groans and gasps, arching his back to feel more of him and Kaidan laughs a sort of wicked, wanton chuckle deep in his chest, sliding back down the length of him. “Pants. Off.” Shepard pushes at the waist of Kaidan’s trousers, wanting to feel all of him, every inch of him, every bit of hard and soft flesh, brush of hair, and jut of bone.

Kaidan tosses a string of condoms and lube next to Shepard on the bed and kneels between his legs, straightening slowly, tauntingly, with such a clear and unmistakable look of desire on his face it makes Shepard’s heart race even more. He scans down the man’s body, watching with great interest as Kaidan’s fingers go to his own belt buckle, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he teases with a smirk.

“Damnit—” Shepard reaches up, pushing Kaidan’s dallying fingers aside, ignoring his snort of amusement as he slips the buckle free, fumbling at the button and then the zipper with single-minded determination to _get Kaidan out of those damned pants_. Since his hands are free, he cages Shepard in again, leaning over him, shifting his hips as Shepard fairly shoves the offending material out of the way. He’s finally, _finally!_ able to cup Kaidan’s ass in his hands, squeezing the muscled flesh under his fingers hard enough to make Kaidan moan. He leans down and covers Shepard’s mouth with his own, their lips locked as he shifts his hips to help Shepard push both trousers and briefs down his thighs until he kicks them the rest of the way off in a couple swift, hard jerks.

Which only serves to bump their cocks together in a completely distracting and highly unsatisfactory way. Once Kaidan is completely naked--except for his socks--he lays down fully on top of Shepard in a glide, settling in as if he belongs there, has always belonged there, still kissing Shepard with languid, passionate kisses, licking at his swollen lips, exploring his mouth while heavy, panting breaths hit Shepard’s cheek. Kaidan grinds down, rubbing slowly against Shepard so that Shepard’s eyes close, head thrown back on the pillow, arms and legs wrapped around the other man as Kaidan rocks him, stimulating them both, but not nearly enough.

“Kaidan. Please—”

“How do you—”

“Fuck me. I can’t—”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ve got you,” his voice cracks with lust and longing as he nuzzles down Shepard’s jaw and neck to his collarbone, nipping at the sharp jut of bone before reaching to the side, the foil of the condom wrapper rustling in his fingers. He’s up on his knees then, sliding the condom down his hardened length, slicking himself with lube--and putting on quite a show as he does so, his face almost grim with determination, thick eyebrows drawn together as he palms first himself and then Shepard. Besides his initial touch with his lips through the fabric of Shepard’s briefs, it’s the first time he’s touched his hardness and he can’t help the groan of need that escapes his lips, watching Kaidan stroke him and feeling the visceral reaction through his veins.

Kaidan applies more lube to his fingers, looking up the length of Shepard’s torso to catch his intensive gaze. “Okay?” he asks and Shepard can only gasp and nod and thrust his hips up, wanting, _needing_ Kaidan in him and on him. Kaidan’s brown eyes are nearly black, pupils wide with desire. He looks almost...mystical; dangerous and alien as if prepared to swallow him whole. Shepard finds himself powerless to resist.

Fingers stroke down him lightly, smoothing over and down, probing with confident fingers, then slipping in, rotating to smear lube as they both groan from the primal urgency.

“K-Kaidan. Please. Just—”

“I’ve got you,” Kaidan says again, the promise whisper quiet but it echoes in the room, focusing down and down and down until it’s all inside Shepard’s head. He grasps at the sheets, fingertips almost biting from the force of purchase that keeps him grounded to solidity. Kaidan lifts Shepard’s leg at the knee, bending it up and back and leaning forward until Shepard feels the tip of him at his entrance, pushing gently. “Breathe, John.” Kaidan smoothes a hand down Shepard’s stomach, and it brings him back into his body, his chest rising and falling heavily.

Kaidan’s gaze has yet to relent, still boring into him, as unrelenting as the pressure that pushes into him, stretching him, filling him.

“Yes…” he breathes as Kaidan groans, long and deep in his throat, his eyes finally closing, releasing him from the taught rope of his focus, his body still as if taking in the feeling of being in him. Shepard waits him out, adjusts to the fullness, wanting him to move and yet not, wanting it to go on and on and on.

He releases his grip on the sheets and reaches out, fingers stroking down Kaidan’s chest, drawing him down towards him with an unspoken plea. Kaidan shifts, pushing his leg up further so that his hip protests and he gasps.

Something must register on his face, because Kaidan immediately releases his leg, leaning down to kiss him softly. “Shit. Sorry. You okay?”

“Yeah, just...not quite so far back.” He squirms a bit to readjust, wrapping his freed leg, and the other one as well, around Kaidan’s back, pressing him closer, which presses him in further and they both groan. “Don’t...don’t stop,” he gasps again, an altogether different sort of gasp from the previous version, something a bit needier and far less pained.

Hot lips land on his neck, nuzzling, nearly burrowing into the hollow of his nape as Kaidan rolls his hips, building them up so slowly as to be torturous. Shepard clings to Kaidan, his back and hips and ass, hands restless and wandering, unable to choose where he wants to touch him (he wants to touch him everywhere). Even with Kaidan inside him, on him, his breath filling his lungs, he’s finding it hard to believe the reality. He clenches his fingers, digging into the flexing muscles of Kaidan’s ass and, as if he senses intuitively what Shepard wants, the pace increases.

Shepard’s purchase only lasts a moment, sliding over sweat-slicked skin. He holds on where he can--Kaidan’s arm propped next to him, at his neck where he feels hair dampened with sweat--and tries to breathe deeply and evenly, but the sensations take over, his body tightening and clenching, draw the ending closer too fast. “I’m not gonna-- _Shit_ , Kaidan—I can’t—” He wants to make it last, but it’s been too long and he feels overwhelmed with it all, doesn’t want to think about how everything with Kaidan just feels _right_.

The veins in Kaidan’s neck stand out as he strains over him, drops his head down to nuzzle hard into his neck. “It’s okay. Come,” he whispers. “I’m close. God, John, you feel so good.”

So Shepard does. Hard. Embarrassingly fast. Legs tight around Kaidan’s thighs. He groans at the sensation of Kaidan quickening his pace, an arm wrapped under him, around his shoulders as he draws him even closer, groaning a curse of his own release into Shepard’s skin. Eventually, he stills, sighing, kissing his way back up to Shepard’s eager, swollen lips. The kiss is languid, wet and open-mouthed and goes on until Kaidan finally withdraws, which makes them both moan and wince and sigh.

Kaidan presses his forehead to Shepard’s, cradling his face in his hands, smiling down at him.

“Sorry,” Shepard says. His voice is rough, cracking as he catches his breath. He loosens his hold on Kaidan gradually, limbs relaxing as Kaidan slides half off him, half onto the bed. “I’m usually not so—”

“It’s fine. Really.” Kaidan kisses him again, reassuring and gentle. He laughs softly, “You kinda got me all wound up, too.”

“Okay.” Shepard rubs his hand down Kaidan’s back and back up to his shoulders, pressing him closer, but Kaidan grumbles, shifting to his side to take off the condom and depositing on a tissue. He grabs another and swipes at Shepard’s stomach before resettling himself, tucked against Shepard’s side with one leg thrown over his, Kaidan’s hand resting lightly on his stomach. “How is it you always seem to know the right thing to say?”

Kaidan shrugs, looks up at him with eyes Shepard could fall into and be very happy about when it happens. “I just say what I feel, John. I guess if it’s something that you agree with, then maybe we just…”

“...fit?” His heart thumps at the thought. Could it really be this easy?

“Yeah.”

They consider each other for a quiet moment. He sees hope and affection, but also doubt and insecurity in Kaidan’s brown eyes, a reflection of his own tumbling emotions. “Scary thought,” Shepard says finally.

Kaidan nods. “Yeah.”

“Wanna...give it a shot?”

The other man nods, a slow smile lighting up his face. He stretches up to kiss him, sighing into his mouth. “Yeah,” Kaidan says against his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh gawds what am I doing? I've been sitting on this fic for a long time and really want to get it done. Only The Shadow knows when updates will appear...
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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